


joie de vivre

by Anonymous



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 08:33:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 61,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6277246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sehun doesn't sleep, and Jongin makes coffee. This is not, however, the fairy tale story of a Starbucks barista and his roommate.</p><p>(reuploaded from aff.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. side a

**Author's Note:**

> with regard to the deletion of this fic and the deactivation of my old aff account: thank you, to those of you that were understanding and respectful, and to those of you that still took the time to message me about it. 
> 
> i wrote this around the ages of fifteen and sixteen. i've edited it in some parts, mostly for my own peace of mind, but it would be wrong to say i don't struggle with having it online even now. this is a personal story with names of real life people, and i know i can't take it back after i've released it to the world. i don't think i'll ever be able to forgive myself for it, for _this_ but — but now, this is also _in memoriam_ of the person i've grown up from, and based on an experience that the past has wholly claimed for itself. 
> 
> this — sehun's character, jongin's character, and everything in between — is still dedicated to all those who find comfort in this, and find something good in a story i still can't love.

**Track 01**. 

Sehun's first conversation with Kim Jongin happens over the phone.

He's bent over the toilet, staring at a mix of the regurgitated version of his lunch and his own blood, when the ringing starts. He moves to get up, only for his knees to give away for what seems to be the sixth or seventh time that day - he collapses forward, whole body convulsing as he retches out what's left of that morning's breakfast as well. It didn't really matter; all he managed to eat was a quarter of burnt toast and a couple sips of coffee.

His vision swims, and he falls, cheek first, onto the tiled floor, coughing and groaning in silent pain.

Relief, somehow, unusually, comes in the assurance that his father won't check up on him, won't see him sprawled against the tiles, halfway to self-destruction; his father's asleep, having stumbled home dazed and confused at 4am this morning, too exhausted from work to even bother staying quiet so as not to disturb his sleeping son.

The ringing continues.

Sehun coughs and groans, vision cloudy as he pushes himself off the bathroom floor and towards the sink, turning on the faucet and letting it run idly. His eyes, try as they might to avoid it, wanders towards his reflection - hollow cheeks and pallid skin and bony wrists - and, predictably, he feels another round of vomiting coming on. He pushes it down, stuffing handful after handful of tap water down his throat in an attempt to get rid of the parchedness and bitter aftertaste.

Suddenly, the ringing stops.

He's torn between relief and panic; relief because he didn't have to answer it, and panic because there's more than an 80% chance it could have been important.

One of his dad's business associates calling with good news - or maybe someone from the university office calling to inform him that ah, there seems to be some mistake regarding your acceptance into our prestigious institution, Mr. Oh. The latter wouldn't be too far off, he thinks. It was a miracle he'd gotten into a university in the first place.

He makes his way downstairs, careful to avoid the particularly creaky sides of the staircase, hand always hovering above the banister but never touching nor holding. If he slips, he always tells himself, it's up for fate to decide whether or not he gets a firm grasp onto the railing and manages to steady himself, or falls down the rest of the steps and breaks his neck. It's a morbid way of viewing something as trivial as walking up or down the stairs, but Sehun finds that everything around him starts to seem morbid once it gets too familiar.

Like, say, Lu Han and Minseok.

The ringing starts again as soon as he reaches the landing, and he heaves a long-suffering sigh before snatching the plastic mouthpiece off the wall. "Oh Residence," he enunciates dryly, the syllables coming out hoarse and weary. He holds the phone away as he clears his throat.  
He almost misses the greeting that floats through in response - in a rich bass far too effusive for 1:00 in the afternoon, no less. " - Sehun there? Mr. Oh Sehun? Is he there?"

Sehun wracks his head for a face to match the voice, but comes out blank.

"Hello? Someone there?" Impatient and way too bright.

"This is him," Sehun pronounces quietly, the statement almost coming out as a question. His first thought is of something involving Lu Han, as it always is, but he manages to keep his tone level as he follows up with; "What can I do for you?"

"Sehun-ah!" The voice exclaims spritely. Sehun thinks for a second of opening sleep-ridden eyes to sudden bursts of white light - listening to the caller is vaguely the same feeling. "Hi! Do you mind if I call you that? We're born in the same year, but I was born at the start of the year. January." There is a temporary halt, and the sound of rustling paper whispers into Sehun's ear. "Says here that you were born in April. That makes me older, doesn't it? I can call you Sehun-ah, right?"

"Who - " Sehun sits down at the top landing, suddenly very tired. He doesn't bother asking what 'here' refers to. "Who is this?"

"Oh shit, right." His newfound acquaintance laughs, the sound as deep and rich and full as his speaking voice. Sehun is surprised to feel one edge of his mouth tugging up in response to the sound. He catches himself in time. "I'm Jongin. Kim Jongin. Your roommate."

He frowns - or at least his eyebrows furrow in an attempt to get as close as it can to a frown. "My roommate."

"Yes, yes, your roommate." Sehun thinks he can almost hear Jongin frowning back, as if mildly disgruntled by the lack of enthusiasm he's receiving parallel to his own. "Or would-be roommate. Doesn't matter. We'll be sharing a room in the fall."  
His dorm roomate, Sehun clarifies for himself. Kim Jongin. "Jongin," he tests it out.

"Yes, yes, that's me." Jongin laughs again, and this time, Sehun allows himself to relax for a few seconds. He has a pleasant laugh, he admits. "Have you had too much to drink last night?"

Sehun shakes his head vehemently, only to stupidly realize a few beats late that the other can't see him. "I don't drink," he murmurs. "Sorry to disappoint."  
"That's a shame." It doesn't sound at all like it's a shame, the way Jongin says it. It's like each word that comes out of his mouth is wrapped in a layer of happiness and good cheer, too bright, too joyful, too enthusiastic. But just bright, mostly. Really bright.

It was quiet for a moment. Sehun notices that he hasn't brought up the lisp - either he hasn't noticed, or was simply too polite to point it out. Based on the last couple minutes they've been talking, however, it's leaning more towards the former.

He clears his throat awkwardly. "Jongin-ssi, may I ask why exactly you called? We're meeting each other in a week - "

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but I figured I should at least try to get to know you so it wouldn't be as awkward." Jongin sounds like he's grinning. He probably is. His tone is playful - but it's quite impossible to tell whether or not it's out of mockery or sheer enthusiasm. "Tell me about yourself, Sehun-ah!"

He briefly wonders if Jongin is on some kind of medication - drugs, maybe - but decides against asking because honestly, what kind of rude person asks someone they hardly even know if -

A chuckle startles him into realizing he's said it out loud.

"Mhm? No, I'm not. Why do you ask?"

Sehun couldn't help it - he panics. "I - I'm - "

"What about you?"

He freezes. "What?"

Jongin hums. It sounds like he's prancing across somewhere spacious - probably even pirouetting happily. Sehun almost wishes he knew what the older looked like so he wasn't thinking about a faceless boy with a huge grin cheerily doing foutte en tourants across a dog park.

"Are you taking meds? Any allergies?"

"Oh." Sehun swallows. "No - no allergies."

Jongin sees through the dodge. "Any other meds, though?"

Sehun fidgets. He doesn't want Jongin intruding more than he already has. "Not really." _I could be taking some, but I guess I'm really stubborn because no, I'm not taking any._ "Nothing serious, though. No illnesses or anything like that," he adds hastily, part-truth, part-lie.

Jongin leaves it at that, moving on breezily to how lucky he thinks he is for getting a roommate practically the exact same age as he is. He asks about height, and they find that they're not much taller nor shorter than each other, if at all. He asks about programs, courses - all of them matched ("Oh, you're in the Humanities program too? So am I!" and "I'm undeclared - oh, you are, too, wow, that's such a coincidence.") . Somehow, he has a feeling the older knew the answers to the questions even before he asks them, but he politely responds to every inquiry Jongin has for him nonetheless. Each new discovery seems to add to Jongin's amusement and limitless happiness.

"Seems like we'll get along well," Jongin chirps, voice all of a sudden too loud over the phone; Sehun feels a headache coming on.

There's a few abrupt beats of silence, springing out of nowhere. Sehun admits that he is momentarily alarmed. But then; "Oh crap. Sehun-ah, I gotta go - I'll see you in a few days."

Sehun finds himself nodding, barely catching himself on time to remember there's no one to see him. "Yeah," he mutters, hoping he doesn't sound too grudging. Jongin seems genuinely nice, though just a little bit on the talkative side. "I'll see you."

He waits for the dial tone to greet his ears, but Jongin doesn't seem to have hung up.

"Oh, wait, and, um, Sehun?" It's the first time he'd addressed him without the "ah" at the end, and it's almost a testament to how solemn his voice has suddenly gotten. It's oddly unsettling.

Sehun had stood up, about to put the mouthpiece back. He stops, apprehensive. "Yes?"

"I don't know how horrible or how great high school might have been for you, but - " Jongin pauses, as if suddenly unsure why he'd started in the first place. He clears his throat. "You should give university a chance. It's a new year. New people, new school, new everything. Tomorrow could just as easily be better than today, you know. Give it a chance." A second pause. "You'll never know unless you give it a chance."

Another long pause stretches out between the two of them, and seconds, minutes, maybe even hours pass when Jongin speaks up again. "I want to see you alive and healthy and well next week, alright? I'm not settling for any other roommate."

He hangs up after that, leaving Sehun standing stiff and confused by the stairs, the dial tone loud and clear in his ear.

Later, when his father, drowsy from sleep, finds him and asks him what he's doing there, staring into space, he could have said _Actually, Dad, can we have a talk? About school? About mom? About everything? About the fact that these days, I constantly feel like throwing myself in front of a moving train, just to end it all; I can't stand this anymore. And it scares me._

But he doesn't. He swallows it back, a habit left behind by way too many years of silence.

Instead he says; "My roommate called. We just chatted for a bit, got to know each other."

And when he gets an "And? What's he like?" in reply, all he says is:

"He seems like a nice person."

And it's not a lie.

 

**Track 02.**

Jongin - he thinks it's Jongin - is already in their room when he gets there, opening a second box. There's already one emptied and folded by the foot of the bed to his right. Sehun stares, despite himself. There's a song playing in the background, faint and crackly. Like an old record on a turntable.

Sehun almost drops his suitcase when he finds that there is a turntable on top of the desk in Jongin's side of the room. Upon closer look, though, he finds that it's simply a small stereo system designed to lean more towards vintage.

 _Now I’ve fallen in deep, slow silent sleep_  
_It’s killing me, I’m dying –_  
_To put a little bit of sunshine in your life._

He knows it's Jongin when the boy grins, dazzling and cheerful, and greets him with an overly bright and breezy Sehun-ah! When he notices the younger staring at the turntable like he hasn't seen one before, his smile widens - if that's possible; Jongin seems like the type who always, always, always smiles regardless. "The Shining by Badly Drawn Boy. A personal favorite."

Sehun nods politely, jerking his gaze away, not quite sure how to reciprocate the cheeriness Jongin practically radiates.

He stands there awkwardly, not really saying anything. Instead, he stares discreetly at the older boy. Red hair, full lips, sculpted cheekbones, olive skin. Lean, graceful figure.

All of which a stark contrast to Sehun's dry, plain brown hair, thin chapped lips, absent smile, sunken cheeks and skinny build.

He tries not to dwell on it. He's not exactly successful.

Sehun moves his gaze again, quickly skimming through the clothes folded neatly in the box. Branded sweaters, crisp denim and pressed khakis. He notices the boat shoes by the closet, the silver watch on the bedside drawer.

He feels a bit dizzy.

"Sehun-ah?"

His voice sounds exactly the same as it did on the phone. Rich and deep. Devoid of any lisps, any stuttering.

Jesus Christ, Jongin is perfect.

Not at all the middle class jokester he'd imagined over the phone. Not clad in the same Old Navy plaid shirts that he is. Not wearing the same thrift store second-hand running shoes.

An echo of Luhan, reverberating, even as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. 

_This is Kim Jongin. His roommate._

Sehun feels a bit irritated. And bitter.

Not at Jongin, though. Himself, mostly. It's always him.

He opens his eyes to find Jongin staring at him.

He looks worried. "Sehun-ah?" he repeats.

"Sorry, just a bit distracted," he murmurs instead, dragging his lone gigantic suitcase up to the left side of the room; assuming this is now his side. He ignores the pain prickling at his temple.

Jongin looks past him, searching the empty doorway for some other figure. "You came alone?"

Sehun nods again. Tart. "My dad dropped me off."

He's sure this isn't how first meetings were supposed to go. Where were the _nice to meet you_ 's?

Jongin pauses, looking uncertain. The look doesn't suit him, but he looks bright nonetheless. He's biting his lip. "Are you okay?"

Sehun almost hates him for it.

He thinks about Lu Han. Lu Han in his memories, Lu Han that echoes off every syllable that comes out of Jongin, Lu Han that shadows the concerned glance Jongin's giving him.

For a moment, he's back to where he doesn't want to be, back to standing in the hallway staring at the back of his locker door, back too many months ago when Minseok had assured him that _no, you're still young, you're still growing. Don't compare yourself to Lu Han. You're more than fine just the way you are. You're wonderful._

He hadn't believed him. He never did, no matter how many times Minseok tried to remind him he was more than fine just the way he was - the words sound droll to him now, even just looking back at it; rote. The very thought had made Sehun feel sick. He wasn't fine. Not at all.

He still isn't fine. Not really.

Jongin's right here, in front of him, the exact same age - and he reminds Sehun so much of Lu Han that he feels like he can't breathe each time he tries to look his new roommate in the eye.

It really isn't fair.

He swallows. "I'm okay. Don't worry. Just tired." And again, it's half the truth, half a lie. That seems to be the recurring theme with Jongin. "Still trying to settle into a new environment." It's an excuse he would have used on his parents; unsurprisingly, it works on his roommate too. He turns away, unzipping his suitcase, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about having Kim Jongin within arm's length.

They unpack in silence.

Or mostly silence.

His roommate kept on humming under his breath, still jovial, but not as dazzlingly bright as before, along to the rhythm of whatever song is now playing. Jongin, occasionally, announces the name of the song - _XTC! Ah, I love this one_ \- though Sehun doesn't really do much to acknowledge his declarations.

He hopes Jongin doesn't notice how pale he'd gotten. How much his hands are shaking as he takes his clothes out one by one. How he tries to avoid looking at him.

But then, around 5:30, Jongin brightens up, just like that, stuffing the last of his thick wool sweaters into the bottom drawer. He stands up and looks expectantly at the younger.

Sehun looks right back at him. "Yeah?"

"Are you almost done?" When he's gifted with a nod in response, Jongin seems pleased. "We should go out."

Sehun almost frowns, hanging up a coat he knows he wouldn't be using until the worst of winter rolls around. It was a gift from his mother's new fiancée. "What?"

"Go out? Grab some coffee? Get dinner?" Jongin laughs. Sehun hates how he feels like relaxing almost automatically; his laugh sounds even more pleasant in real life. "You sound like you've never been invited before." He hasn't. Not exactly. "Let's go. To celebrate?"

"Celebrate - " Sehun is confused. It probably doesn't show on his face. Jongin's smile doesn't even waver. "Celebrate what?"

"Our one week anniversary!" Jongin beams, bouncing excitedly onto his bed, socked feet almost hitting the turntable. It'd stopped playing about ten minutes ago. Sehun realizes, albeit belatedly, that he still hasn't quite wrapped his head around the idea that Jongin - Kim Jongin, his roommate, the guy who somehow thought it was okay to regularly call someone he hasn't even met prior to said phone call - is right here in the flesh, as endlessly bright as he sounded on the phone. So vibrant it almost worsened Sehun's headache. "Or week-sary? What do you call it? We've officially known each other for a week as of today. We should do something."

"And.. " Sehun isn't quite following what he's trying to say. "And we're supposed to celebrate it because?" He prompts, making eye contact with his new roommate for the first time.

Jongin's eyes are really bright, he thinks. Bright, bright, bright. Everything about Jongin is bright. Even more so now that he's an arm's length away. "Just because," he states simply, not even bothering to put much force into his lazy shrug. "You always have to find things about life worth celebrating, Sehun-ah," he continues, almost admonishing. Maybe even taking pity on him for not understanding. He hears Lu Han there for a second, and he fights back a sudden wave of nausea. It had to stop. It _had_ to. "First anniversaries, second, fiftieth - they're all worth celebrating. Right? Tell me I'm right."

Sehun doesn't. He doesn't really understand, and he's feeling really queasy and anxious, but he lets himself be coerced into a light jacket and out the door of his new room. His new home. Jongin himself is only wearing a sweatshirt - Sehun can't shrug off the fact that it might be worth more than all his clothes combined - but is relatively unruffled by the cold as they set out towards -

"Where are we going?"

Jongin hums. "I don't know. What do you feel like eating?"

 _Nothing,_ Sehun almost says. He's not hungry. He hasn't been hungry in a long time. "I'd rather you decide," he tells his roommate instead, voice barely past a murmur. It's been a while since he last talked to someone his age. More than a couple of months, really. "I'm not much of a food variety person."

"Oh, oh, a coffee and muffin person? Starbucks, then?" Jongin glances at him briefly, smile teasing around his lips. There really is always a smile creeping somewhere around Jongin's features. "I'm not really all that hungry. I think I might be feeling a little homesick already," he jokes, but there's an earnestness in his words that Sehun respectfully pretends not to notice. "Coffee is good, right?"

Sehun nods conscientiously. He isn't quite sure if roommates are supposed to go hang out together so soon. Isn't quite sure if scenes like this were supposed to actually happen in real life.

Jongin himself seems to get less and less real the more glances Sehun sneaks at him.

He offers to buy the food for them, getting surprisingly zero protests. A Caffe Americano - he meant to order a hazelnut macchiato with two extra hazelnut shots, but panicked when the barista turned to him - and a cheesecake brownie for him. A Skinny Mocha and a banana loaf for Jongin.

Somehow, during the spare minutes he'd spent in line, Jongin had managed to befriend every customer in the cafe. The two ladies to their right, the older group of college kids clustered around textbooks behind him, a businessman who can't seem to do anything but grunt.

It's ridiculous.

They sit down at a corner by the window once they've fetched their drinks, and Jongin immediately gulps down his coffee. Like it's not hot. At all - 

"Sehun-ah?" Jongin's looking at him, rather solemn. There's a terrifying difference there, in comparison to his usual beaming expression.

Sehun fiddles with his hands in his lap. "Hm?"

"Do you..." Jongin shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "Do you not like me? Did I do something?"

Sehun thinks his jaw drops. He isn't really sure. "No," he says, hastily, backtracking, "No, you didn't."

"You don't hate me?" Jongin heaves a sigh of utter relief - absolutely thankful. "It's just that - I know I can be annoying sometimes. I talk too much. I can't really help it." _Sorry_ , he mouths awkwardly. "It's what I do. But I can try to - "

"I don't - I don't mind. I'm not much of a talker," Sehun manages. He chokes the words out; "I should be the one apologizing."

Jongin looks like he wants to reach over to hug him. Or maybe a good pat on the back. He also looks confused. "Apologize for what? You didn't do anything."

Sehun sighs. "You didn't do anything, either," he murmurs into his cup. It's the only thing he knows how to say. Already, Jongin is so different from him - so honest, so sure, so straightforward about everything, and he's scared of that difference, scared of a repeat from someone that feels like his past incarnate. "I'm sorry you think that."

 _You just remind me of someone I know_ , he almost adds.

He thinks Jongin understands anyway, somehow.

A smile blooms on his kind, kind face; not a grin flashing his perfect row of white teeth, but a soft closed-lip smile. Sehun likes it. "Drink your coffee, Sehun-ah."

Sehun does. "It's bitter," he mutters.

Jongin grins sheepishly at him, as if he hadn't just scalded a good portion of his mouth. "It's an Americano." He laughs heartily - a bit distractedly, like he's still mulling something over - but still with his customary gusto. He stops short, though, and that sombre look in his eyes makes a comeback, if briefly. "I like the idea of you being my roommate, Sehun-ah. Okay? This is an awkward thing to say, but I really do want to be friends with you. Somehow."

Sehun thinks of Lu Han. It's against his better judgement, against the smile given to him, but he wants to start squirming. "Don't say things like that."

Jongin's smile turns soft again. It's odd - unsettling - how easily he can switch from rainbows and unicorns and cotton candy to suddenly secretly understanding the messages underlining Sehun's replies. "I can say what I want."

"I can apologize as much as I want," Sehun points out, quietly, pushing back the sudden lump in his throat. He draws circles on the pattern his cup leaves behind on the table. "Just don't say things like that."

Jongin thinks this over. "Well, then, every time you apologize for something you didn't even do, I'll say something really cheesy about our blooming friendship. Or maybe give you a forehead flick. I have a pretty mean forehead flick." He nods to himself. "That's a fair deal, right?"

"Jongin," Sehun starts - and stops when he realizes this is the first time he'd seriously called him by name. Just his first name. In person.

"Sehun," Jongin chirps back. His name really doesn't sound quite right in Jongin's voice when the affectionate _-ah_ is absent. Just like last time. On the phone. The confirmation is a bit jarring.

He doesn't point it out, though. He's a bit afraid to admit it to himself.

"You know," Jongin says, looking around thoughtfully. Sehun knows he's about to say something completely off topic even before his roommate turns back to him, eyes twinkling in the flourescent cafe lights. "I think I'd actually want to work here."

The statement comes so abruptly, out of nowhere, that Sehun almost starts. Everything about Jongin, on top of being so straightforward, is sudden and he thinks his headache's getting really, really, really bad.

"Then work here," He manages to reply. Weakly. Simply. Because it sounds like the adult thing to say. Parents do that a lot -

_"I'm always tired, no matter how much rest I get."_

_"Then sleep more."_

As if it's that easy.

Jongin laughs again - warm chuckles that sound like a million delicate little bells ringing just for Sehun. Like Christmas coming early. Jongin and Christmas.

"You know what, I think I will. Give me a week, Sehun-ah. I'll be bringing you a coffee and a muffin every night starting next week."

And there's something about the way he smiles after that, like there's more to his promise, trivial as it is, that makes Sehun's stomach churn.

He downs the rest of his bitter Americano in one gulp.

 

 

  
**Track 03.**

"How are you doing?"

"Fine."

There's a pause on the other end. His mother trying to search for another question to keep the conversation going. He's almost sorry to not be reciprocating. "How's university?"

Sehun sighs. "Fine."

University life is, in a sense, better than being in high school. He had more time to sleep in between classes, didn't really have to socialize all that much, didn't have to worry about having to get called on by the teacher and forced to speak in front of a bunch of students who only knew him as that kid Lu Han drags around. University life is going great, really, if he's that willing to be optimistic about his new daily routine.

Admittedly, maybe it is a bit too early to say that, considering that he hasn't even been around for much longer than a month, but for the moment he's willing to let his mother know that university is going fine, if not entirely well.

"Your roommate?"

Sehun fiddles with the phone absently. "Fine."

As if on cue, the door opens - with quite the obnoxious bang (one that he's gotten used to, more or less) - and a tired-looking Jongin dances his way in, effortlessly carrying two styrofoam cups marked with the trademark Starbucks logo. He flashes Sehun a quick grin and gives him an exaggerated wink, before setting the coffee down on his dresser and disappearing into the bathroom.

Sehun watches him go.

Having Jongin as a roommate fell somewhere in that gray area between bad and great. Jongin is the main reason he has a handful of people to say hi to in the halls, though his lack of enthusiasm in comparison to the older seemed to be a hindrance to him pursuing any further friendships. That's okay, since he isn't all that interested in making new friends. Jongin is the reason he manages to stay awake in Sociology despite his insomnia acting up again.

Or maybe that was the coffee.

Jongin did end up working at Starbucks, barging into their dorm room at once and letting Sehun know as soon as he found out he got accepted. Like a kid showing off his award. Since then, he'd been regularly bringing coffee home after his shift, and not once has he allowed Sehun to pay for them. 

Sehun didn't like that.

He didn't like owing Kim Jongin. He didn't like being Kim Jongin's charity case. He didn't like how Kim Jongin made coffee exactly the way he wanted. He didn't like how Kim Jongin politely pretends not to notice Sehun lying in bed until 5am simply staring at the ceiling instead of going to sleep like a normal university student would have. He didn't like how Kim Jongin drags him to the food hall every morning and occasionally, evenings, to make sure he eats. He didn't like how Kim Jongin acted like he knew Sehun; acted like he understood why Sehun is the way he is, while simultaneously trying to coax as much information out of him as possible as if he's genuinely concerned. He doesn't like it. Not at all.

Because that makes Kim Jongin a potential friend.

And the term "friend" makes Sehun think of Lu Han and Minseok and letters in lockers and wishing he could transfer schools and white and green pills and -

"Sehun?"

He rubs the heel of his palm against his temple. "Yes, Mom?"

"Are you doing okay, sweetheart? Honestly?" It's almost funny how often he'd heard her say these exact same questions. He mouths along to her next words; "You can tell me. If there's anything wrong, you can tell me."

"I'm fine, Mom." He says immediately, and he knows she's aware it's a lie, but would never dare ask about it. She's stopped insisting about it a long time ago; stopped trying to worm her way back into his life after she left smack dab in the middle of his teenage years. "I have to go now, alright? Bye."

He doesn't wait for her to say anything before he hangs up.

"Mom?"

Sehun nods without looking up, locking his phone before tossing it to the side. "Yeah."

"Does she live in the city?" Jongin has changed out of his uniform, opting for a loose-fitting shirt and sweatpants. He launches himself onto his bed. He peers at Sehun through long lashes and white sheets. "You still see her?"

Sehun doesn't remember ever telling his roommate about his parents' separation, or if he is or had been close to his mom at all. "No. She lives with her fiancée," he replies guardedly. "I talk to her every once in a while."

"You don't look pleased right now, though."

He isn't really in the mood. "You're the one who says I'm not the expressive type."

"Yeah, but - " Jongin moves so that he's lying flat on his back. " - usually, your eyes change according to how you're feeling. They widen or narrow a fraction every now and then. I've been around you for twenty-six days, Oh Sehun. I'm starting to learn the ropes." He beams, and holds up a finger before Sehun can say anything. "And you're being more responsive to me lately. Looks like we're adjusting pretty well."

The thing about that is that they really are starting to adapt to each other. Sehun tolerates Jongin's old songs constantly playing in the background whenever the two of them are in the room together, whether it be in the form of humming or the turntable stereo blasted at half-volume. Jongin acknowledges the fact that he has to be in charge of most of their conversations, lest he wants there to be no conversations at all. Sehun knows that Jongin needs sleep more than anything - he falls asleep easily and has trouble waking up in the morning. Jongin knows Sehun is the complete opposite. Things like that.

Sehun dismisses it as inevitable, and tells himself it doesn't need to go further than the acquaintanceship they currently have. He looks pointedly at the Starbucks cups. "If you know me so well, why do you keep buying me coffee?" He's this close to snapping; somehow, all he ever feels after phone calls with his mom is never-ending angst and resentment. Jongin doesn't seem to mind that he's being unusually snappy, though. He doesn't like that, either. He could probably yell at him and still get a bright smile in return. "You know I have trouble falling asleep."

"First of all, it's free. It comes with the job." Jongin literally waves it off with a hand gesture. "Second of all, 'trouble falling asleep' means going to bed at 11 and drifting off around 1 or 2am at its worst. Not going to bed at 11 and falling asleep way past sunrise, if you even sleep at all. You're an insomniac, Sehun-ah; I doubt the caffeine makes much of a difference."

Sehun just stares flatly at him.

Jongin isn't done, though. "Third and most important of all," He holds up a third finger. "I want you to owe me. Big time. I'll keep bringing home coffee until you owe me so much you'd have no choice but to do as I tell you to."

Sehun simply frowns in confusion at him.

"I want you to answer my questions," Jongin answers without missing a beat. "You get so dodgy when I ask about what type of people you hung around with in high school. Like seriously - I just want to know if my Sehun-ah used to hang around drunkards and stoners. Are you the partying type?"

My Sehun-ah, he says. That's another habit Jongin has developed that Sehun disliked. He dislikes it a lot.

Sehun grabs a coffee anyway. It's not hot anymore. "None of the above."

"Then which kind is it?" Jongin's almost whining. "What was your best friend like?"

Sehun thinks of Lu Han. He wonders if that counted as a friend, if it came right down to it. Probably not. He levels his gaze at Jongin, a clear sign for him to please stop probing. "I don't remember you being this nosy when you first called me. You were willing to respect my privacy."

"That was then!" Jongin sounds indignant. He sits up, bringing his fist down on the mattress. It's almost cute. "Every day I feel like you hate me - like you despite me, loathe me, abhor me - "

"I don't." Sehun does roll his eyes this time. He's really, really, really tired. Exhausted all of a sudden. The feeling is so familiar that one would think he should be used to it by now, but he's not. "How many times do I have to tell you I don't?"

Jongin flops back down dejectedly. "You're so confusing, Sehun-ah."

Sehun fights back the instinctive I'm sorry that shoots up his throat. He swallows it down, with considerable difficulty. "You know you don't have to do anything for me. No coffee, no breakfast and dinner - "

"That's bullcrap," Jongin declares. "No one should eat breakfast and dinner alone. Knowing you, you won't even eat at all if I wasn't around to drag you. You're practically shrieking nonstop for attention - "

You're only looking for attention, Sehunnie, Lu Han's voice almost sounds exactly like Jongin's in his head. Please, anyone with eyes can see right through you. There's no problem. Stop being so dramatic about it.

"Then stop," Sehun sighs at Jongin. His head's throbbing. "Stop making me your charity case if it makes you frustrated."

Jongin grows solemn within seconds. "You're not a charity case," he sighs right back. Jongin sighing sombrely is even more unsettling than Jongin not smiling. "You're not."

"I'm sorry," Sehun mutters, curling up against himself. If this is Lu Han - if this is Lu Han, the conversation would have been done with just this, with Sehun apologizing. But this is Jongin. Somehow, that's a relief. "Just - crap, sorry - "

Jongin's eyebrows knit together almost immediately. "What did I say about the apologizing?"

Sehun wants to throw a pillow at him. "I have a headache. Please. Let's just - "

Jongin stands up suddenly. "We're going for a walk."

"What part about having a headache - " Sehun breaks off as Jongin pulls him to his feet. Jongin's hand around his wrist is warm. He finds it hard to protest this way. "You can go on your walk alone - "

"No. I'm not going on my daily 6:00 walk without anyone." Jongin pushes him gently towards the closet. He starts tapping his foot. "Grab your jacket. Let's go, Sehun-ah."

Sehun doesn't have it in him to argue any more.

 

Sehun gathers up the courage to ask around after thirty minutes of walking. He's cold and tired and hungry and his headache is still there. "Are we lost?"

"No," Jongin replies shortly.

"Then where are we going?"

"Nowhere in particular."

Sehun stops. "I'm going home, then."

Jongin pulls him forward. "No, you're not," he proclaims, "Consider this my apology. You need to be out more. Get some fresh air. This is my gift, my peace offering."

"A peace offering."

"For that fight earlier."

Sehun is incredulous. "That was a fight?"

"An argument, whatever." Jongin glances at him briefly. He seems genuinely disturbed by what happened just half an hour ago. Like he hadn't argued with anyone before. 

Considering how easygoing he is, the idea doesn't seem too far off.

Sehun has argued with Lu Han. A lot. Lu Han getting mad at him for hanging out with Minseok without him. Lu Han getting mad at him for not skipping class with him. Lu Han getting mad at him for nothing in particular. It always ended in Sehun having to give in and apologize repeatedly even when he knows it's none of his fault. All the time.

"Jongin, we really could have stayed in our room and gone to bed early," Sehun tells him matter-of-factly. Maybe I could take care of this headache and actually sleep before 3am for once. "It's too cold to be out, let's go back."

"No." Jongin grabs him back so violently; it actually kind of hurt. "No. No - "

"Let's go home, Jongin." Sehun doesn't understand. Twenty-six days knowing Jongin has not prepared him for being stuck in the middle of nowhere with him, especially during the last few days of autumn when the temperature is wavering precariously between single digits and below zero. "It won't happen again, I promise."

"That's not what I want to hear." Jongin looks like he might struggle vehemently if Sehun tries to grab him and drag him home. "Sehun-ah - "

Sehun couldn't help the question that wrestles its way out his mouth. "Why on earth are you so persistent?" He wonders how ridiculous they look, two boys standing in the cold under a lone lamppost. He heaves a deep sigh. "I don't understand."

"I don't understand you." Jongin looks him right in the eye as he says it. "I know things, but I don't understand. You won't let me understand. You're so frustrating."

_I want to understand you, but you won't let me._

_Sehun, why won't you tell me anything? I tell you everything, I do everything for you - do you not trust me? I'm your best friend. I want to understand you._

Some of the things Jongin says are starting to sound really familiar. Déjà vu.

Maybe that's what Sehun dislikes the most.

Sehun wants to bang his head against one of the tree trunks around them. "There's nothing to understand," he says point-blank. "Let's go home."

He turns around brusquely, grabbing Jongin's wrist, only to trip unceremoniously on a gnarly tree root he hadn't seen by his right foot. His roommate steadies him almost immediately, and instinctively, Sehun lets go of the other's wrist. "I'm sorry."

Jongin responds, unhesitant, with a forehead flick.

He ignores Sehun's soft yelp as he bends down to examine the root, breath creating little billows of white clouds as he panted his way towards the trunk.

"Look at this tree."

He really, really, really, really just wants to go home. But he shuffles forward anyway.

Sehun had tripped on a small stump; the remains of a pretty thick tree that had been haphazardly cut down to make way for a lamppost and a bench. Just like so many other trees sacrificed for urban expansion. He glances at Jongin. "I don't understand," he repeats, resignedly. "I really don't, Jongin."

"Look at it," Jongin insists obstinately. "Count the rings."

Sehun does. It takes him quite a while, but he counts 83. "Eighty-three," he announces.

"This tree," Jongin announces animatedly, "was alive for eighty-three years. This tree right here - a tree right in the middle of campus - was alive for eighty-three years. It stood tall and strong for eighty-three years, even when they kept expanding this campus." He looks at Sehun expectantly. "Isn't that great?"

Sehun nods slowly. "Right."

Jongin gestures towards the tree - or rather, the stump - again. "It stood strong against everything for eighty-three years, Sehun-ah. That's more than some people live." He points his index finger right at it.

"Al - " Sehun is very much confused. " - right. Alright. Okay. Can we go home?"

Jongin looks frustrated. He seems to be very easily frustrated today. Sehun wonders if he'd had a long day at school and work. "You're not getting this. It's amazing. It's an amazing thing - looking at trees and realizing how they still stay alive year after year, no matter how gnarled they grow."

 _I wouldn't have been able to do that_ , Sehun thinks. _I almost didn't manage to make it to this year. Almost. I'm still alive because I was too scared to do anything._

Jongin is suddenly quiet, and Sehun realizes he's said it out loud. As usual.

Sehun thinks about Lu Han again - there's hardly ever a time when he doesn't.

 _What movie did you even get that from?_ He would have said.

Or he would have changed the subject immediately to matters he deemed more pressing.

Or rolled his eyes.

Not stayed quiet like this. Serene. Peaceful.

Jongin isn't Lu Han. Sehun knows that. Yet it is only at times like this when it hits him at full force that no, Jongin doesn't have to be like Lu Han.

But the thought is gone as quickly as it came, and suddenly he's back to thinking about little notes folded neatly and slipped into his locker. Ones that he read every morning without fail.

No matter what each of them said.

"Let's go back," Sehun says softly.

Jongin doesn't say anything for the rest of the walk home.

 

It isn't until they'd long since gone to bed, when Sehun's up pretending the clock didn't read 2:37am, that he realizes it.

He looks at Jongin, curled up against the wall under heaps of blankets. The older had stayed quiet since the incident by the tree stump, and has not said anything else to Sehun since other than his usual soft Good Night. Coupled with an even softer smile. It almost felt like nothing had happened, but Sehun feels so vulnerable, so unsure.

Even more so than usual.

Sehun wonders if he's awake. His breathing is even, but he hasn't snored since they'd gone to bed. He knows Jongin's sleeping habits well enough by now to know that that meant he isn't entirely in dreamland.

"Jongin?" he whispers.

There's no immediate response. It's 2:41 when Jongin's form moves, blankets moving around him. "Yeah?"

Sehun closes his eyes. "You looked through my file, didn't you?" _You were looking through it that day you called me_ , he could have added. _That's how you knew my birthday. He doesn't have it in him to say more, though._

Silence. And then; "I did."

"You saw that I had a couple of appointments with a shrink before," he says. It isn't a question. Jongin knows that, too. "You know my parents are divorced. You know I have a record for regularly skipping classes." He swallows. He feels that if he doesn't, he won't stop. "You know I was diagnosed with dysthymia."

"I don't know what that is, honestly." Jongin is mumbling into his sheets. Sehun almost feels like laughing. "But about everything else - Sehun-ah, are you mad at me?"

Sehun thinks about it. "I don't know. I'm not going to ask how you got a hold of my records, but you had no right looking through it."

Jongin hums. "Would you have told me otherwise? You don't like me very much."

"No. No, I wouldn't have," Sehun agrees. He questions if it's the truth. "Dysthymia is a kind of depression, Jongin."

"What does that have to do with you not liking me?"

"I never said I didn't like you."

"But you act like you don't."

Sehun opens his eyes. "Jongin, why did you look through my records?"

"I'll tell you if you tell me why you're so sad."

"I'm not sad."

"Yes, you are."

"That's not fair, Jongin."

"Life isn't fair, Sehun-ah."

Sehun's lids suddenly feel very heavy. "I'm tired."

"I know." Jongin hums again. "Sleep."

"We," Sehun's eyes flutter shut, "still need to talk."

"We can always talk tomorrow." Sehun hears Jongin moving, and then he feels a heavy blanket being pulled above him. Jongin tucking him in. He's suddenly very close - too close - when he whispers; "I'm sorry for looking through your file, but - I may know the technical details, Sehun-ah, but I don't know your real story. That's up to you, whether or not you want to tell me."

"Jongin - "

"Good night, Sehun-ah."

Sehun doesn't know if he says good night back or not, because all too suddenly, he drifts off to sleep.

 

  
**Track 04.**

They don't talk for seventeen days. _Hello_ 's and _Good night_ 's were exchanged (and it was impossible for Jongin to not smile, really) but that was it. Nothing else was said; nothing at all. Seventeen days of nothing.

Sehun was content with it at first. He'd never really gotten silence since he'd started rooming with Jongin, even in the rare cases when the other wasn't even talking. Jongin's presence was just loud, no matter what he did or didn't do. In those seventeen days, however, everything was quiet. Like Sehun's home. And yet, despite the rocky state of their friendship - if you can even call it that; they were more of acquaintances than friends, maybe - it didn't take long for Sehun to come to terms with the fact that Jongin's constant talking did more for him than he initially thought.

Without Jongin, Sehun felt almost - lonely. He almost felt like he was right back at home, in a usually empty house, or with Lu Han and Minseok on a bad day, ignored and terribly isolated. Displaced. Like every day was a dreary, rainy Sunday spent dreading the next day back. Some things were suddenly much harder - waking up for classes without Jongin yelling at him from the bathroom to _get up! come on, you and I have to eat breakfast!_ , doing homework without Jongin playing The Smiths in the background, spending evenings without the coffee Jongin used to bring back almost routinely.

Sehun hates it. He really hates it. He hates that familiar combined feeling of loneliness, of constant dread and illogical guilt, like something thick and prickly trying to crawl its way out of his mouth every single second, minute, hour of the day.

And now here he was.

It's been a while since he's done this.

Two months, maybe. The last time was that day Jongin called.

Sehun exhales shakily, elbows and limbs struggling to keep his bony build up above the toilet seat. His throat feels incredibly, incredibly, incredibly dry, and he can feel tears prickling at his eyes as he heaves up yet another portion of this morning's breakfast. His stomach feels even more dreadfully queasy now, and his knees awfully weak, as if he'd gulped down a hundred pints of disgusting, gooey mush and it somehow managed to completely fill every area of his body from the lungs down.

He clamps his mouth and eyes shut. He stays like that, the picture of utter peace and calm for a good three seconds, before he feels another round coming up his throat. This time, he makes a sincere attempt to force it down, the sheer effort of it turning his breath erratic and his hands shaky and clammy.

This is Jongin's fault.

All the anxiety filling him up, head to toe - like helium being constantly pumped into a balloon already blown past its size, like quarters being forced into a piggy bank already about to break, like water poured into a tall glass already filled to the brim; all of it is Jongin's fault.

Sehun would very much like to blame himself and get it over with. Blaming things on himself made him feel raw, vulnerable, but it gave him considerably more control over the matter at hand than handing the reins over to someone else. Even worse is that the someone else in this situation happens to be Jongin, who, it seems, had absolutely zero sense of remorse so long as he deemed his action redeemable.

His roommate had left their room really early this morning - leaving a note that said, in huge, loopy writing and way too many exclamation points to be pleasant to the eye: "I'm taking over someone's shift for work today!!! Don't forget to eat breakfast!!!! They're serving waffles with some sort of blueberry or raspberry sauce!!! I'll be here by the time you come back from class!!! Love, Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome", after which a huge waffle heart was drawn - as if nothing worth mentioning had happened between them before at all.

Sehun hates to admit that he was almost overly relieved upon discovering it.

Sehun would also very much like to believe he'd been wrong about having that conversation with Jongin all those weeks ago. Without it, his relationship with Jongin would have stayed the way it was - safe, controllable, avoidable. But taking what happened that night into account, Jongin already potentially knows way more about Sehun than anyone else does - including his own parents, and even Lu Han.

Potentially.

The fact put Jongin in a position that, frankly, terrified Sehun.

But not talking to Jongin, somehow, terrified him even more.

The familiar sound of the door banging against the wall startles Sehun out of his unwarranted reverie, and his first instinct is to flush the toilet and rush over to the sink, shaky though his knees might be. Before he can do it, though, Jongin opens the bathroom door without any preamble whatsoever, eyes immediately growing wide.

Panic settles in really quickly when he sees his roommate sitting on the tiled bathroom floor. He mouths a surprised  _Sehun-ah._

Sehun secretly takes some sort of pride in the fact that he still calls him that, even after what could be considered a small fight.

But "Class?" is all Jongin says.

"I," Sehun attempts weakly, voice hoarse and throat still raw. He gestures helplessly, wondering if he's the only one suddenly feeling awkward. "Didn't really feel like going."

Jongin's eyes grow even wider. He looks torn. Over what, though, Sehun doesn't really know. "Why?"

Sehun frowns at him. _Why are you asking? Wasn't looking through my files enough for you?_   says one part of him.  _Just because_ , says another.

He swallows, ignoring the burn in his throat. "Not feeling well," he relents. "Felt dizzy."

Jongin steps forward, hand outstretched, ignoring all known rules of privacy and physical contact between acquaintances as he places a hand on Sehun's forehead. "You're cold," he says, worrying his bottom lip. A quick transition from nosy to concerned. It's still unsettling. Sehun jerks away, out of reflex. "Like really cold."

"Fine. I'm fine," he mutters.

Jongin steps back. "That's what you told your mom."

Sehun sighs. "I don't want you telling me about my family. You already know more than you were supposed to."

"So you're mad at me."

"I'm not." Sehun turns away to face the faucet. There it is again. Jongin sounding like Lu Han. "Jesus, Jongin," he adds, saying his name more as a reminder to himself than anything else.

"Are we still fighting?"

 _Were we fighting_? "Are we?"

Sehun can still see him narrowing his eyes at him through his reflection in the bathroom mirror. "What were you doing in here?"

"Don't be nosy, Jongin." _Please_. This is the first time we're talking to each other in a long while. I don't want to fight.

"Well, I'm worried." Jongin looks almost intimidating. If only they weren't crammed in a small bathroom. "And I just want to know whether you're mad at me."

"Well, I'm not." Sehun turns off the faucet. "I'm really not."

"Are you upset with me, then?"

"What's the difference?"

"I feel like you'll be ignoring me if you're upset with me."

"Look," Sehun brushes past Jongin back into their room. "I'm talking to you. Clearly, I'm not ignoring you."

"Clearly," Jongin shoots back, "You're upset."

"Jongin," Sehun sits down gingerly on his bed, grabbing a pillow to stuff his face into. Anything that doesn't involve looking directly at Jongin. "I think I have a right to be." And I still really don't understand why you're so keen on learning about me.

Jongin is quiet for a while. Sehun thinks he isn't going to reply at all.

And then; "I'm - I'm new at this." 

It's kind of funny, Sehun thinks. That makes two of them. Jongin has to be lying.

"Also - I - I was waiting for you to start talking to me."

Sehun, against his better judgement, looks up. "What?"

Jongin sits down on his own bed. "I said," he starts, a little too loud, "I was waiting for you to notice me ignoring you and talk to me."

Sehun doesn't understand. "What did you want me to say?"

Jongin looks frozen for a second, as if he doesn't know whether to groan or reply gently. He settles for both. "I don't know. Something. Not talking to you for seventeen days was horrible."

"You counted," Sehun comments dryly. It's not a question.

"And you didn't?" Jongin counters easily. "I wasn't sure if you're mad at me or not."

"I'm not, Jongin," Sehun tells him honestly. _I've stopped getting mad at anything a long time ago, really._

"Why?"

He'd said it out loud. Of course he did. Sehun musters a shake of his head. "It's nothing."

Jongin looks conflicted. "Sehun-ah. What were you doing inside? Are you okay? Just - tell me, if I can do anything. Anything."

Sehun closes his eyes. They stay closed for a long time, and he almost wishes he can fall asleep right then and there.

It isn't until he feels weight near his legs, the mattress dipping down ever so slightly, that he opens his eyes, feeling like he's been physically dragged back into consciousness. He sees Jongin staring down at him, face alarmingly close, apparently having abandoned the rest of his sense of privacy. He opens his mouth, eyebrows scrunched together - Sehun knows even without having to think what he's going to say next; he's spent the last seventeen days waiting for the invitation.

He beats him to it. "Okay."

Jongin looks baffled. "What?"

"Okay."

"Okay what?"

"Let's go for that walk."

Jongin smiles, sudden and big and warm. Sehun, for reasons he can't quite understand himself, kind of wants to sigh in relief.

"Do you want to get noodles, Sehun-ah?"

 

Jongin's idea of "getting noodles" doesn't involve going to the noodle shop right across the Starbucks he works at and buying four orders of black bean. Getting noodles, in Jongin's perfect little world of bright stars and teenage dreams and parties and exciting road trips in expensive convertibles, meant buying instant noodles from the convenience store two minutes away from their building -

\- and trespassing into the rooftop of said building to eat said noodles.

Jongin knocks on the last suite they pass on their way towards the rooftop and asks to borrow a thermos filled with hot water from the old lady that opens the door for them. She hands one over without hesitation, beaming brightly and murmuring about free-spirited youth.

"What would you have done if she said no?" Sehun peers at his roommate. "Or if she didn't have a thermos?"

"Eaten these noodles raw," Jongin replies cheerily. He doesn't seem to be joking. Sehun almost admits he missed him.

They set up camp under an awning perpendicular to the door to the rooftop. _If someone peeked in_ , Jongin said, they wouldn't be seen; _and if someone opened the door and went out, they have time to run. Tell me I'm clever._

Sehun doesn't. He seats himself on an old bench, taking the initiative to start pouring hot water into the noodles.

Jongin sprawls out on the ground, dusty cement and all. "I'm hungry."

Sehun doesn't bat an eyelash. "Hi, Hungry, I'm Sehun."

"Old joke." His roommate sticks his tongue out at him.

They finish two cups each in relative silence - Jongin slurping loudly while Sehun chews slowly and quietly. They can see their own building from up where they are; can see that they forgot to turn the lights off in their room. They can see the sky, orange and pink and yellow and blue at all the right places. The sunset's beautiful. It's going to a be a beautiful night. Sehun wonders why Jongin chose to spend it with him.

"Jongin?"

He gets a hum in response, the redhead's mouth full.

"Don't you have any friends?"

Jongin chokes on his food as he laughs, and Sehun hands him a water bottle. He takes a few quick chugs, before erupting into peals of wonderful laughter. "Oh my god," he spits out, after a while, like he'd just heard the most hilarious joke of his whole lifetime. Sehun thinks it must be. Jongin having no friends is just downright ridiculous. "Uh - Of course I do."

Sehun nods. He feels incredibly stupid. "Of course."

"But - " Jongin takes another sip from the water bottle. Sehun just realizes now that it's his. "I like hanging out with you more, Sehun-ah."

Sehun reacts the way he normally does; stiffens, then relaxes, all in the immediate second that follows. "I told you not to say things like that," he murmurs.

"Sure."

Sehun doesn't answer; instead, he watches Jongin. He watches him swallow down mouthful after mouthful of noodles. He watches as he glances up brightly at the darkening sky, as if it's just another friend he'd bumped into off campus. He watches as Jongin absently traces shapeless figures on his thigh as he waits for the next cup of noodles to be ready. He watches as he looks up at him, at Sehun, and smiles, as if they've just shared a private joke though no words had been exchanged.

Sehun wonders if Jongin has always been this - this warm, wonders when he started letting himself warm up to the idea of being friends with Jongin. Being wanted by Jongin.

He sighs and looks down at his hands. He hates how quickly he gets attached to people. They always end up leaving.

"Sehun-ah?"

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry."

Sehun sighs. "Why are you - "

"No, I - let me - listen." Jongin's not looking at him, he knows. He imagines Jongin must be looking down at his shoes. The mental image doesn't work. "I'm sorry for being persistent. It wasn't right to - to basically interrogate you - I shouldn't force questions on you - questions that I know you're not ready to answer - and I wasn't fair. It was rude, and it was - it wasn't fair to you at all - and I - I meant well. But that doesn't change the fact that I pushed things on you that I - I definitely should  _not_ have - and I - I'm sorry. I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable. For upsetting you. None of it was your fault, and you shouldn't apologize. It wasn't a fight, really. It was just me - me being a terrible roommate. So. Please. Just - let me apologize."

Sehun could hate Jongin so easily. But that wasn't fair - because it was never Jongin he actually wants to hate. What he wanted so desperately to hate was feeling like he owed him, were the clothes he wore, the smile that was always there.

Most of all, it's the parts of him that remind him of Lu Han. 

He hasn't been fair to Jongin, either, he knows. Jongin was Jongin, and maybe he'd never realized that he was just that - just himself.

It's a work in progress, still. And that - he wants to hate that, too.

He takes a deep breath, and it's both painful and relieving when he manages two words; "One question."

Jongin takes a while to understand. "Wait, no. It's alright. I just said - "

"Please." Sehun doesn't know why he says it. What is he saying  _please_ to? "One question."

When he looks up, Jongin looks - fragile, almost. Like he's been handed something he didn't trust himself to be able to handle without breaking. But he pushes past it, and rearranges his face into something gentle, something so terribly kind, as he whispers; "If you're sure."

Sehun looks back down. He can't stand the look on Jongin's face, somehow. "I - I am."

"Then. One question." Jongin takes his time. Ages pass before he takes a deep breath. "Who's Lu Han?"

Sehun freezes. He doesn't look up. He continues staring at his palms, wondering if he'd heard wrong. "What?"

"Lu Han." Jongin is opening another cup, as if just for something to do. Sehun doesn't know how many he even bought. "Am I - Am I saying it right? I can pick another question - "

"Where - " Sehun's voice cracks. He weighs the chances of him getting away with bolting and ignoring Jongin for another seventeen days; possibly even more. Then he thinks of the loneliness and the silence and he stops. Takes a deep breath. "Where did you hear that name?"

"From you." Jongin digs his chopsticks into the cup and doesn't pull it back out just yet. "You were talking in your sleep. That night."

Sehun wants to curl up into a ball. "That night?"

"It was 2am. Almost 3, I think. Still night. Seventeen days ago."

Sehun is quiet. He wonders what Jongin is thinking.

"Who is he? An old flame?"

Sehun is still quiet.

"Did you like him?"

Sehun bursts out into chuckles at that. It sounds empty even to his own ears. But it's funny. Somehow. "Did I like Lu Han?" he echoes. _Did he like Lu Han?_ He's lacing his fingers together a little too tight, he thinks. It hurts. "Not at all, no."

Jongin wouldn't look at him. "Did you hate him, then?"

"Not at all, no," repeats Sehun. "I don't know." _I wish I did._

" _Do_ you hate him?" Jongin's hand around his chopsticks is oddly taut.

Sehun thinks about it. "Maybe," he whispers.

His grip loosens. "Tell me about him."

Sehun doesn't look at him.  "Jongin, you don't want to hear this. We should head back."

"It's still early," is the immediate response. "I've got all the time in the world to listen, Sehun-ah."

The words rise up unbidden in his throat. "That's what Lu Han said."

Jongin doesn't ask. "Well, good, that's a start. I know one thing about this Lu Han person now. Keep going." He sticks his chopsticks into his mouth. They're empty. His cup of noodles is in front of him, untouched and growing cold. "If you're trying to spare me, then - don't. We're not going until you talk. Unless - unless you really don't want to - "

"No." Sehun exhales - slowly, until he was sure there's not a single breath of air left in his lungs. Then he inhales. It's almost painful.

"No? No what?" Jongin waits for him. He isn't eating his noodles loudly this time. He's not eating them at all.

"Lu Han." Sehun stuffs his hands into his pockets. He leans back and tucks his knobbly knees under him. It's uncomfortable, but it's all he can do to remind him that this is real. That he's telling someone about Lu Han. That someone had asked, _is_ asking. "He was - He was just - Lu Han."

Jongin, surprisingly, doesn't say a thing. Sehun can't even hear him breathing.

He ends up closing his eyes. He thinks of doll like features and curled lips and pastel hair. He thinks of small delicate hands scrawling on bright post its. "Lu Han - He really liked attention. He talked loud in the halls and always made sure someone can hear him. He glared at anyone who he doesn't consider worth smiling at. He always wants you to hang out with him after school, no matter what. He liked talking about himself - his problems, the people who have a crush on him, the people he liked." He chokes something back. Again, it's kind of painful. "I don't have anything nice to say about Lu Han. I don't think I ever will. And it makes me feel like shit because that doesn't make me any better than the person he was."

"Was?" Jongin's voice almost startles Sehun.

Sehun finds it difficult to breathe. It's like someone has stuck a fist down his throat. He inhales unevenly. He exhales even more unsteadily. "Lu Han died in a car accident last February."

Jongin is as silent and unmoving as a statue.

"I didn't have the chance to attend his funeral," Sehun continues, voice barely above a whisper. "Not that I would have. I didn't think I had the right to. Everyone thought I was the one that put him there. Where he is now."

Jongin shifts, inching towards Sehun. He's warm. "Did you?"

He's  _still_ asking, and that's painful. No one else had asked.

Sehun's eyes still feel like they're burning. There's something pooling in his eyes. His vision turns glazy. Everything's blurry. "I don't know," he says, so softly that if someone told him he hadn't said anything, he'd believe it.

Jongin doesn't say anything. He stays quiet for a really, really, really long time. Longer than that last time. Much longer. Their shoulders are touching, though, and for that long period of time, there's only warmth and silence.

Sehun wonders if each of the evenings he spends with Jongin are always going to be like this. Follow this same pattern. If there's going to be more evenings to spend with him; more walks to go with him on.

The sky's completely dark when Jongin whispers; "Have you cried since then?"

Sehun doesn't bother thinking over his answer. "No."

"Why not?"

"I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"I don't know."

Jongin hums. "Cry, if you want to. Cry, when you need to. Just make sure not to drown in your tears." He smiles, ever so slightly. Sehun wonders if any of his other friends have ever actually seen him smile like this. So softly. Not like his usual brightness. More of a softer, gentler glow. "I'll be here to make sure you don't drown. I'll pull you out when you need me to. It's my job, Sehun."

Sehun buries his head in his own arms. This almost feels comfortable. "That's a horrible job."

He can hear Jongin shaking his head. "No." So much honesty put into one word. "No, not really. I think I like this job."

 

  
**Track 05.**

Jongin is waiting right outside when Sehun gets out of class.

He tries to avoid being in Jongin's line of vision - or rather, avoid it as well as he could without stooping so low as to hide behind a bush. It's fruitless, and his roommate had already spotted him by the time he'd taken his fifth step out of the lecture building, smile brighter than the early afternoon sun and hand raised higher than it should probably be in a wave.

Somehow, he's not surprised.

He is more than surprised, however, by the car.

"I didn't know you drive," is his alternative for a hello, resigned and arid. He pointedly stares at the old navy Honda Civic, not quite sure if he's supposed to ask or if he's expected to already know where the other had gotten it from. He's pretty certain the car wasn't around prior to today.

"I don't have a license, so you couldn't have known," Jongin chirps, pulling out a set of keys from his back pocket. A small teddy bear is hanging from it. Sehun almost snorts - if only he wasn't so alarmed by the fact that Jongin's slipping into the driver's seat, closing the door behind him, as cavalier as you can get.

"Wait - " He stops, belatedly realizing Jongin can't hear him from inside the car. He wrenches the passenger seat door open. "What are you doing - " Again, he stops. It occurs to him that the wisest thing to do is to walk away.

"I can't hear you, Sehun-ah. The wind's too loud. Get in, close the door behind you."

He should have walked away. That's what he usually would have done.

But this is Jongin, and lately, since that time on the rooftop, it's been getting so much more difficult to dodge, much less ignore, his steadfast, ceaseless attempts at "taking their friendship to a higher level".

Jongin had dressed up as Ash Ketchum for a Halloween party a week ago in the dorm building beside theirs, and that was what he had told Sehun after a considerably long, tipsy monologue comparing their relationship to Pokemon. It isn't too far from the truth, Jongin had added. _I want you to be the very best, that no one ever was_ \- He'd proceeded to sing the rest of the theme song, until Sehun gives in enough to throw a pillow at his roommate to silence him, pretending Jongin's words hadn't somehow undone something in him, stupid as though the metaphor might be.

Sehun sighs and does as he's told.

He opens his mouth to restart his argument, deciding that _screw it, might as well_ but suddenly the doors are locking and the engine is starting. Jongin laughs at the surprise blatantly painted on the younger's face, before pulling out of his makeshift parking space without so much as another word spoken by either of them.

Sehun doesn't speak until the second red light. "This is illegal."

"Says the boy with the skipping record."

Sehun wants to deck him. But he also kind of wants to laugh. "You're kidnapping me."

Jongin mulls it over. "Am I?"

Sehun gives him a dry look. "Yes. You're taking me against my will."

Jongin nods and smiles, rather triumphant. "Huh."

Sehun is still torn between punching him or laughing because of him. He finds that that's mostly how he feels around his roommate nowadays.

"All without getting my license or actually paying for a car."

Sehun is momentarily horrified. "You stole this car?"

"No!" Jongin is equally appalled. "It's my friend's. I'm borrowing it for a bit. Oh my _god_ , Sehun-ah."

"Oh."

"'Oh'? You just accused me of stealing a car - " Jongin exhales sharply, almost missing another red light. "I'm offended."

Sehun wants to bang his head against the dashboard. "You're kidnapping me," he mutters flatly. "You could have stolen this car for all I know."

"But I wouldn't steal one," Jongin shoots back, obstinate as ever. "You know that."

Sehun sighs because he does know that.

And that's probably a sign that their relationship is getting dangerously close to leaving his comfort zone.

He eyes the dashboard one more time. _How hard do I have to hit it to get a concussion?_ He looks away instead, out the window, and pointedly ignores his roommate.

Jongin lets it go without further discussion, surprisingly. He eases the car back into movement when the light turns green, and the conversation ends there.

Sehun is somewhat unsettled by this. He doesn't want to bother figuring out why, though. He clears his throat. "So."

Jongin is fiddling with the radio-slash-stereo with one hand. "Yeah?"

"Where are we going?"

Jongin hits a button. Nothing happens. "To the beach."

"The.." Sehun frowns. "..beach."

He hits another one, and the mini LED screen on the stereo lights up, bright and neon green. "Yes, the beach."

Sehun doesn't understand. He opens his mouth - and is promptly cut off by piano notes. It takes him a second to realize it's coming from the speakers. The first few bars of a song he immediately recognizes.

Jongin looks over, curiously. "Do you know this song?"

Sehun swallows, a non-existent ball of something thick feeling heavy in his mouth."Yeah. 'I'm A Better Man'." He says it robotically. He swallows again. More like gulps. "From my parents' wedding. There was a video." His mother used to watch it all the time, when things started changing.

To his credit, Jongin doesn't react - at least not visibly. He doesn't flinch, or cringe. Sehun almost thinks Jongin knew for a fact that this was a song that hit close to home. "Do you know the lyrics?"

Sehun doesn't look at anything else but the stereo. "Like the back of my hand."

"Cool," Jongin chirps back, enthusiastic as a mouse given a whole block of cheese. "Sing with me - "

_“If I could catch a star before it touched the ground,_

_I’d place it in a box, tie ribbons all around –_

_And then I’d offer it to you,_

_A token of my love and deep devotion._

_The world’s a better place,With you to turn to._

_I’m a better man,_

_For having loved you."_

Sehun switches the song, hitting the 'next' button with a little bit too much force. He doesn't think about why he does it. He just does. Jongin doesn't ask.

Sehun almost thanks him.

They both look away as a Beatles song starts playing, and the car once again slows to a stop in front of a red light.

"We're still going to the beach, you know."

Sehun doesn't bat an eyelash. "It's almost winter."

He sees Jongin's smile without looking at him.

"Exactly."

 

It's terribly cold.

And windy. Really windy.

Sehun almost wishes he had the jacket his mother's fiancée had given him.

By the time he'd talked himself into finally getting out of the car and braving the cold completely, Jongin had rolled his sleeves and trousers up to his elbows and knees, entirely unbothered by the chill. He tosses his coat over to Sehun, who fumbles around before catching it.

"You can wear it," Jongin tells him brightly. "I don't feel cold."

"Clearly." Sehun wants to roll his eyes. Twice. He wishes he would. But he doesn't. Instead, he turns away to fold the coat haphazardly and tosses it into the car, channeling into the action all his frustration at Jongin for bringing him here. "So."

Jongin stares at him. It's starting to make him feel uneasy, always being the centre of Jongin's attention. He wonders if all of Jongin's other friends feel like this around him too. "What?"

"What are we doing here?"

"It's the beach, Sehun-ah."

"In the dead of winter."

"It's not the dead of winter. It's November." Jongin clucks his tongue at him. "Is this the first time you've gone to the beach when it's not summer?"

Sehun makes sure to look at him levelly. "I haven't ever gone to the beach before."

Jongin looks aghast. So aghast he's at a loss for words in the following two minutes.

"How - " he splutters as soon as he's re-gathered enough of the shattered pieces of his composure, gesturing around wildly. "Never? The beach is the best. You can scream at the sky, whisper secrets to the sea, hold hands with the clouds." He stretches both arms out. "The world is yours if you want it to be. I'm giving you the world by taking you here, you - you - "

Sehun tunes him out. He just stares at his roommate with as much disbelief as he has the energy to muster. He wants to walk around to get rid of at least some of the cold, but the sand under his feet is making him feel really antsy about moving. He doesn't want sand in his shoes. "Okay. I see. Can we go home?"

"Nope," is Jongin's answer before he's even done listening to the question.

Sehun kicks a small mound of sand by his left foot. "I'm going back to the car," he mutters, turning around. "The car you stole."

He'd been expecting a retort from Jongin - maybe a _I didn't steal it!_ or if he's that unfortunate, whining about him being a spoilsport. What he gets instead is his line of vision turned upside down and Jongin's oddly warm hands wrapping around every exposed part of his upper limbs. And then he's being lifted off his feet. Rather aggressively.

He's still a bit taller than Jongin, though, and they don't make it far before theirs legs and arms get tangled. Jongin loses his balance first, and so happens to be the unluckier one to be nearer to the water when he falls, trousers immediately getting soaked as he trips over. He regains his balance in time enough to only fall in knee-deep.

Sehun isn't quite as graceful. He instinctively yells in protest as his palms hit sand; he actually yells - and he thinks he swears but he can't really be sure - and the sound feels so new and refreshing and completely unexpected in comparison to his usual demeanor that both he and Jongin take a moment to just stop and stare at each other. And then Jongin's features break into an ear-splitting grin, and he moves without warning. So quickly that Sehun doesn't have time to react before he suddenly finds sand all over his legs and torso. Maybe even some in his mouth.

He gets to his feet out of sheer reflex, avoiding his roommate's line of attack. He ends up tripping on an untied shoelace. A few seconds of embarassing flailing and he's back on the ground, with more sand in his hair than under his body. His left foot is dangerously close to the water now, and he doesn't have half the mind to move it before water reaches the sole and drenches the whole bottom half of his sneaker.

He wants to whimper. He groans instead.

He realizes rather belatedly that Jongin is laughing. Really hard. At him.

It starts with a few chuckles, rich and low, and then he's chortling, hands clutching vaguely around his stomach, uncaring of the fact that the more he moved, the more he got wet.

The edges of Sehun's lips curl up slightly at that.

And then Jongin's full out guffawing, bursts of rich infectious laughter reminiscent of the sea itself washing over both of them.

Sehun thinks about it. How they must look to an outsider. Two boys with sand all over their day clothes. One of them knee-deep in the water and the other sprawled on the ground.

If Minseok or Lu Han could see him right now, what would they think?

_You look like you're having fun._

Sehun thinks _yeah, maybe. Maybe I'm having fun. Maybe._

And then he's laughing.

It isn't quite as loud or raucous or hearty as Jongin's characteristic chortles, but he's laughing. He's chuckling, almost. It feels foreign and familiar and difficult and easy all at once, and he feels like there's a grip tight around his chest slowly becoming loosened.

When he looks up, Jongin is staring down at him with wide eyes. They both blink, and when Sehun opens his eyes again, Jongin is stretching a hand out to help him up, eyes no longer wide. Sehun sobers up, and he wonders if he'd imagined it.

If he imagined himself laughing too.

But Jongin's eyes are bright when Sehun takes his hand, though rather reluctantly. He murmurs a soft, almost tentative; "You should laugh more, Sehun-ah."

Sehun pretends he didn't hear it. "Are we going home? I have a rough draft to hand in tomorrow."

Jongin isn't listening, though. "I'm staying here," he declares blithely. He'd bent down to untie his own shoelaces, still in the water, and, after kicking off his wet shoes and toeing off his damp socks, he's scurrying further down the water, ditching his stuff on the sand like a snake shedding off skin.

Sehun sighs and watches him go.

He finds a new spot back on the sand, as close as he can get to the water without actually touching it, and decides to wait there for Jongin to finish whatever it is he's doing. He's still cold. But somehow it's not so bad with Jongin looking up at him every now and then to hold up another thing he'd picked up, showcasing it with a bright smile.

A different knot seems to form in Sehun's stomach each time.

It takes Jongin a full twenty-five minutes to get bored with walking around in the water by himself. Sehun's pretty sure that's a world record for someone their age. He waddles back, the edges of his rolled up pants still wet and several stones secure in his right fist. He plops down beside the younger, happy as ever, and holds up an open hand.

"Pick one stone."

Sehun spares them a glance. Jongin is too close. Too warm.

He picks without really looking. "Blue."

Jongin hums in approval. "I like the slightly yellow one. It looks weird. But a nice weird." He drops a stone on top of Sehun's crossed legs. "Here, take it."

Sehun sighs, and holds it up to eye level. It's a cross between yellow and orange. Light. Like the colours of a sunset around the edges. "Then why would you make me pick in the first place?"

"So I can keep the one you picked," Jongin answers without missing a beat.

Sehun wishes he still has that dashboard to bang his head against.

"Sehun-ah?"

"Are you going to ask me why I picked the blue one?"

Jongin cracks a grin. "I was going to, but no. No, I'm not."

"Of course."

"So," Jongin nudges him. He really is too warm. "I have one left here."

Sehun thinks he wants to move away. He doesn't. "Okay."

Jongin makes a little hum of discontent. He holds up the last stone. It's gray and rough. "I need you to tell me something about yourself."

"You 'need' me to," Sehun echoes. "For a stone. As if you don't know enough."

"Yes, I need you to," Jongin shoots back, point-blank. Sehun almost wishes he hadn't said anything. "And I really don't know enough about you."

_And I really don't know anything about you. At all._

Sehun screws his eyes shut for a total of two seconds. "You saw my file. You know my birthday and all that."

Jongin almost whines at that. "No, I need you to tell me something else."

Sehun spares the stones another glance. "Like what?"

"Like - " Jongin breaks off thoughtfully. "Oh, you know that thing?"

"No, I don't know that thing."

Jongin looks completely unfazed. "That thing. About how it's the little things that tell you the most about a person."

Sehun's still looking at the stones. "Little things," he repeats.

Jongin nods. "Yeah, like how they feel about the weather. Or how often they look for someone to talk to. How much they read. Whether or not they drink coffee. Things like that."

"Does it?" Sehun looks back down at this hands.

He can see Jongin raising an eyebrow at him, pleased and curious. Still too warm. "What do you mean?"

"Does it really tell you what they like or dislike?"

Jongin thinks about it. "Yeah, I think so."

Sehun makes a non-committal sound in reply.

"Well, then, how about this?" Jongin places the gray stone in front of them. "I'll ask you directly. What's something you like?"

Sehun doesn't even think about it. "Sleep."

Jongin rolls his eyes. "Something you don't like?"

Sehun is quiet. _Myself_ , he thinks.

Jongin is quiet too. Sehun doesn't even berate himself when he realizes he'd said it out loud without thinking; yet again. He wonders why he can never seem to differentiate between his thoughts and spoken words whenever he's around Jongin.

Jongin remains quiet for a total of for ten seconds. He holds up the stone again. "Why?"

Sehun frowns. "Huh?"

"Tell me why you don't like yourself," Jongin says. Flat.

Sehun swallows. He doesn't say anything.

Jongin's looking right at him, eyebrows scrunched together. "Frankly, I don't understand why you won't like yourself." He sounds almost mad. Angry. Upset. "That's ridiculous."

Sehun thinks he might get mad himself. He doesn't understand. The beach is too quiet a place for an argument like this. "Ridiculous," he repeats. _Not everyone's like you,_ he thinks. _Practically flawless. I'm not like that. I never will be._ "It's reasonable."

"It's not reasonable to not like yourself!" Jongin exclaims with more vigour than Sehun had ever heard him use. "You should treat yourself like you would treat a friend. You won't tell a friend you don't love them, do you? You won't point out their flaws. You won't discourage them or scold them for every little thing. You won't have them apologize for something they didn't even do. That's just ridiculous, Sehun-ah. You have to be friends with yourself. You have to love yourself."

Sehun doesn't say anything. He feels dizzy. He picks up the gray stone.

"Sometimes," he starts, voice dangerously soft. "I feel like sleeping the rest of my life away. Like I can't do anything. Can't eat, can't sleep, can't get out of bed. But then I never end up ever falling asleep. Not really." He releases a breath he doesn't even know he'd been holding. Jongin does the same beside him. "Sometimes, I feel like everything I do is pathetic. Like I'm just shrieking for attention if I do something particularly loud or bold. If I talk out of turn or initiate a conversation or call someone a friend when our relationship can't even be called a friendship. Sometimes, I want so much. I crave so much. But then I think about how I don't deserve any of it and suddenly I don't want anything anymore. I want to be happy, but I can't even be happy with myself. Sometimes, I want to do a lot of things. Most times, I never do any of them. Sometimes, I make sense. Most times, I don't." He tightens his hand around the stone, and then he lets go. It falls back to the sand without a sound. "I really don't know what else to tell you, Jongin."

As per custom, Jongin doesn't say anything. He reaches out for Sehun. For a second, he thinks he's going to hold his hand, but instead, Jongin drops the blue stone on top of the younger's palm. And then, gingerly, he closes Sehun's fingers around it.

Jongin's hands are warm. Sehun almost wishes he won't let go.

"That's the most you've ever said to me in one go." Jongin's voice is barely above a whisper when he continues; "It's my personal opinion, and it might not be much, but I don't think you're pathetic. I never think that. I think you're fragile, sure. And often I get frustrated with you for always making me feel like I'm doing something wrong. But I'm still learning. And I'm still here. I'm still here for a reason." His hands tighten around Sehun's fingers, the stone digging into the other's hand. He lets go. "I'm still here because I know you're not as bad as you think you are. You never were, and never will be. You have your flaws, but that doesn't mean they make you any less wonderful. Not to me. That might never be enough, but I'm here." He stops.

 _I'm here, I'm here, I'm here_. The words echo over and over in Sehun's head.

Jongin laughs quietly. "And to think I haven't even known you for long. It might not be much, but I would gladly take 6:00 walks and eat instant noodles and go to the beach with you. You're a special friend that way."

"Special friend." Sehun wants to cry.

Jongin hums. "You are. I think you are."

Sehun thinks that this can't be real. He blinks. "Don't say that."

Jongin shakes his head. "You're only human. Don't be so hard on yourself." He picks up the gray stone and stands up, gesturing for his roommate to follow. "Let's go home."

Sehun pockets the two other stones as he stands up, hand tightening around the yellow one. Jongin's stone. His hands brush around the blue one before it disappears into his pocket, and he almost smiles. Almost.

"Wait. Sehun-ah. I need to do one more thing."

Jongin's back in the water, still unbothered by the cold. He gestures for Sehun to come closer. He does, hands in his pockets.

Before he can look away, Jongin suddenly throws the gray stone.

It skips three times. Sehun watches with wide eyes.

Jongin turns back to him with a triumphant smile. But he doesn't say anything. He waddles back, and ever the more cavalier of the two of them, hooks an arm around Sehun's shoulders. Spins him around till he's not facing the water. "Now, we can go home."

He doesn't let go of Sehun until they reach the car. Sehun doesn't complain.

 

That night, just before he falls asleep, Sehun turns the yellow stone over in his hand. He looks at Jongin across the room, face only slightly illuminated by what little moonlight floats past the curtains they'd set up.

"Thank you," he murmurs. _For whatever that was_.

 

 

**Track 06.**

Sehun isn't really sure what he's doing.

He's been standing outside Starbucks for seven minutes, beanie taut around his ears and mouth hidden behind his scarf. He's cold. The temperature is sitting comfortably below zero, and it's freezing.

Sehun wonders what he's even doing here. He had time to spare between two of his classes, and the original plan had been to go home and just lie down for about an hour or so before heading out again.

He'd ended up here.

Visiting. Sehun sighs into his scarf. He's actually visiting Jongin at work.

Maybe he misses Jongin. Maybe.

He receives a weird look from a freshman girl passing him by - she's in one of his classes, he thinks. He's not really sure. He looks away. He doesn't like weird looks. It's like asking for more attention.

So he goes inside.

He doesn't exactly know how he knows that Jongin's shift should be ending around this time. He doesn't bother trying to figure out why, either. The mere thought of thinking it over gives him a migraine.

The place isn't particularly packed, but there are still more than enough exclusive groups of university students, all of which were familiar faces, to make him nervous about being here. He's not exactly well-equipped for this sort of thing.

The smell of coffee is overwhelming, too.

Sehun feels anxious. He thinks about leaving.

He turns, only to find himself facing Jongin. He's sitting in one of the corner tables, unusually bundled up, across a brunet donned in a Starbucks uniform. He has really long legs. They look like they're mock-arguing, and the brunet even reaches out to flick Jongin's forehead.

Sehun's throat feels clogged up, for some reason. He feels kind of stupid for not expecting this. Jongin with one of his other friends. Smiling and laughing. Just like he does with him. Just like he does with everyone else.

He wonders if it's jealousy. Then he wonders if he has the right to be jealous.

The brunet looks up first, and starts. He blinks at Sehun, looking momentarily confused.

Jongin follows his gaze. Sehun doesn't have time to run away before his roommate's gaze is on him. "Sehun-ah!" His voice is loud enough to ring across the whole cafe. They attract glances from at least half of the customers.

Even so, Sehun relaxes. Just the tiniest bit.

The brunet's face has cleared, as if he'd answered his own question. Sehun isn't allowed a few minutes to think about it, though; Jongin has already bounded over to him. "Sehun-ah," he repeats, excitedly. Like a child. Up close, his eyes look unusually watery and his cheeks unusually pink. He turns to the brunet, one hand reaching out to pat Sehun's arm. "Sehun-ah visited me," he announces.

The brunet's grinning when he stands up. He seems to notice Sehun's slight apprehension, and doesn't offer a hand. His grin belongs to a whole new caliber of dazzling. "Hi. I'm Chanyeol."

Sehun manages a small smile. He wonders if it looks polite enough. "Sehun."

Chanyeol gives him a look.

Jongin's practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I just finished my shift," he cheers, "Yeol's taking over after me."

Sehun looks over at his roommate, curiosity getting the better of him. "Are you okay?"

Chanyeol laughs. "He's taken some medicine. It's going to make him drowsy soon."

Sehun's a bit startled. He thinks he must be panicking. "What for?"

"He has a cold," Chanyeol says, frowning slightly. "He's had a cold for a couple of days now."

Jongin turns on him almost accusingly. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Sehun mutters. "You should go home."

Chanyeol nods solemnly. "That's probably a good idea."

"I am." Jongin rolls his eyes. "I was about to go get my stuff."

Just like that, Sehun's back to being illogically anxious. His throat suddenly feels very dry as he watches Jongin go, and it's with a lot of difficulty that he makes eye contact with Chanyeol.

Chanyeol's eyes are soft. His smile is, too. The look suits him. Sehun wonders if all of Jongin's friends are like this. Like him. "It's nice to meet you, Sehun-ah."

 _Only Jongin calls me that,_ Sehun almost blurts out. His throat is still dry. His mouth refuses to move. Instead, he quirks up one side of his mouth in a smile as amiable as he could muster, and nods. "Jongin has talked a lot about you," he offers, once he's sure his voice won't crack. It's a lie.

Chanyeol sees right through it. He laughs. Loud and boisterous. Deep. "That's bullshit," he says, not unpleasantly, "But he's talked a lot to me about you, that's for sure."

Sehun starts at that, but before he can respond, Jongin's back, tugging at his arm. He looks even more unfocused now. Groggy. Sehun doesn't even bother hiding his concern. It's too unsettling seeing his roommate like this - like his light is slowly going out.

"We should probably go," he tells Chanyeol. He doesn't look at him, though. He thinks he's physically unable to. He keeps his eyes on Jongin instead.

He thinks Chanyeol nods. Maybe waves. "I'll see you around, then. Take care of Jongin."

Jongin sneezes.

 

Two hours later and Sehun's still not sure what he's doing.

He looks at Jongin - at least what's visible of him. He's nestled under three layers of blankets, cheeks rosy and eyes drowsy. Sehun had given him his own blanket, and then pulled out an extra comforter from the deepest corner of his closet. The fact that he still hasn't fallen asleep is a bit worrisome.

Sehun hasn't really ever felt this helpless in his entire life. "This is the best I can do," he murmurs, sitting on his bed. It feels awfully bare. "Since you won't let me go get anything else."

"I don't need anything else." Jongin looks blearily at him. It's adorable, and Sehun hates himself for thinking that. "I'm okay. I'll be fine."

Sehun sighs. "You're really sick."

Jongin sighs, too. "It's just a cold."

"You have a fever, too," Sehun adds flatly.

"I didn't have one earlier."

"Well, now you do." Sehun looks at him squarely. "And whose fault is it?"

Jongin might have winced; it's not really possible to tell with his body tucked away. He's almost pouting. "The beach was a long time ago."

"Prancing around in negative degree water without a jacket was still pretty stupid."

"You liked the beach, though." He smiles, still bleary. "Didn't you?"

Sehun looks at him. Looks at him hard.

Jongin stares back, eyes bright even in the dimness of his side of the room.

"That's out of the question," Sehun mutters. "I would have liked it more if I hadn't gone with an idiot."

Jongin looks like a kicked puppy. "Would you really have?"

"No," Sehun groans. "I wouldn't have gone in the first place. Going to the beach in November without wearing your jacket - no, not even. Playing in the water in November without wearing your jacket - Jesus, Jongin, who does that?"

Jongin beams. "Apparently, I do."

"And look what we have here," Sehun shoots back dryly. "Jongin with a cold and a fever. We could have skipped the beach if that meant you were going to get sick."

"That has nothing to do with anything," Jongin laughs, too amused for someone bedridden with a cold. "You're talkative today, Sehun-ah. Is it because we haven't seen each other in a while?"

Sehun frowns slightly. "Yes, we have."

"You've been busy with your paper. I've been busy with work." Sehun has noticed, but he wouldn't tell Jongin that. "We haven't actually talked in, like, two weeks." He sounds almost scandalized. Like not spending time with Sehun is a crime punishable by law.

"I wouldn't be busy with my paper if we didn't go to the beach."

"You liked the beach," Jongin repeats. "And you missed me."

"I liked the beach," Sehun sighs. Anything to appease a sick roommate. He doesn't say anything about missing Jongin. He hopes he doesn't notice. "Are you sure you don't want me to get you food?"

Jongin looks at him incredulously.

Sehun frowns again. "What?"

Jongin looks like he's not quite sure whether to smile or continue looking. It ends up with his face contorted in a half-frown, half-smile. Sehun hates that he still looks attractive. "Are you being like this because I'm sick?"

Sehun blinks. "Like what?"

"All caring and responsive and just - un-Sehun-ah-like."

Sehun feels like he should be offended. "I just asked you if you wanted food."

"Would you have asked me that if I wasn't sick?"

Sehun thinks about it. "Probably not."

Jongin rolls his eyes. "Exactly." He shifts. The top blanket doesn't even move. "Don't you have class?"

"I'm not going," Sehun says stiffly.

Jongin looks at him, smug. "Why?"

 _I owe you one. For the beach._ The words are on the tip of Sehun's tongue. He swallows them back. Mostly because he's scared of what Jongin might say. He's always scared of what Jongin might say. "I'm not leaving you here. That's crazy."

"A little crazy never hurt anybody," Jongin sings.

Sehun sighs. "You're ridiculous."

Jongin grins. "You like me because I'm ridiculous. You think of me as a friend now. Don't tell me a little bit of ridiculousness didn't have something to do with that."

"I don't like you," is Sehun's instinctive answer. He thinks it's blatant to both him and Jongin that it's a lie. He looks away just in case; tries not to think about coffee and night walks and rooftops and sand and stones.

They're quiet - so quiet that Sehun's led to believe Jongin had fallen asleep. But he hasn't. Sehun looks up and sees his roommate staring at him. Almost entranced. One of them blinks, and Jongin's features melt into a customary smile. Like Chanyeol's smile.

Sehun swallows back the lump in his throat. "Jongin?"

"Yeah?" He sounds even more awake now.

"Can you - " Sehun looks away. Again. He's not entirely sure what he's trying to do. "Can you tell me - " It's a hard question to ask, especially because it's him asking. It probably shows on his face. "Can you tell me about yourself?"

Jongin looks downright bewildered; Sehun feels almost guilty not having have asked sooner. He recovers quickly, though - he always does - and Sehun thinks he goes red. Really red. Or maybe that's because he's sick.

Sehun doesn't really want to consider the alternative. He doesn't want to be too hopeful.

But, hopeful for what, he doesn't really know.

Jongin clears his throat. It's like roles have been reversed. It would have been funny, if Sehun isn't as nervous himself. "What do you mean?"

"Just - " For a second, Sehun wants to recoil. But he takes one look at Jongin's face, and he exhales. He wonders if his roommate ever feels like this, too. "Little things. Tell me little things."

Jongin takes five minutes to deliberate. "Come here."

The confusion shows on Sehun's face. It makes Jongin laugh. "What?"

"I said," Jongin moves his feet - or at least Sehun thinks it's his feet. The bottom part of the blankets move and rustle around. "Come over here. Sit."

Sehun stares at him. "On your feet?"

Jongin shrugs. "Doesn't matter. Just come here. Don't argue, I'm sick."

Sehun truthfully can't protest to that. He eyes the other bed, practically hidden under heaps and heaps of blankets. He sighs. Against his better judgement, he shuffles over to Jongin's side of the room and sits, tucking his feet under his legs. The bed's warm. Much warmer than his bed. It might be softer, too. More comfortable. Sehun thinks he can immediately fall asleep here.

Jongin smiles at him. "Okay?"

Sehun nods. It's not really okay. His heart is beating a bit faster than usual. Like it does when social anxiety strikes. Except a lot more agreeable.

Jongin's looking at him.

He's suddenly very self-conscious. "What?"

"It feels like this is the closest you've ever been to me."

Sehun is torn between looking away and rolling his eyes. He decides that a sick Jongin gives him a bigger headache than a non-sick Jongin. "We've walked side by side before." Really close. You're always really warm.

"Yeah," Jongin sighs. Sehun can't really tell if he's being mock-wistful or not. "But you felt kind of far away."

Sehun doesn't really have anything to say to that.

He prods at what he thinks is Jongin's foot, in a sudden burst of courage. He doesn't question where it comes from. He pokes the outline of his roommate's foot twice.

Jongin seems to finally snap out of it. "Oh. Right. Where do I start?"

Sehun thinks neither of them is really doing a good job at this. He wonders why he even asked in the first place. Then he thinks about the beach, and he instead, he says; "Anything is fine."

"My favorite color is blue," Jongin suddenly says. "Light blue."

"Like the sky," Sehun mutters.

Jongin nods. "Yeah. Like the sky."

Sehun hums. He hopes he could remember. If he could engrave it permanently on his hand, maybe he would. _Jongin likes blue_. Light. Like the sky.

"I can't really cook. But I make good coffee, I think."

Sehun quietly agrees.

Jongin looks like he's forcing himself to stay awake. "I'm no good at folding clothes."

Sehun thinks about the countless clothes in Jongin's closet rolled instead of folded. He wonders how he even noticed.

"I used to write."

"What kind?"

"Poetry, mostly."

Sehun wants to smile at that. Jongin. Writing. Jongin, the poet.

Jongin stretches slightly, eyebrows scrunched together in mild concentration. "I used to swim. Do track. Play basketball. Soccer. I was pretty athletic." Sehun doesn't ask what happened. Doesn't ask why he refers to it in the past tense. "I did ballet and jazz for nine years. I can hold my liquor pretty well."

Sehun raises an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

Jongin looks sheepish.

"Lu Han never invited me to parties," Sehun murmurs. His eyes widen, and he slaps a hand on top of his mouth.

Jongin blinks. "Trust me, you didn't really miss much," he says gently, and leaves it at that. Sehun almost heaves a sigh of relief. "Do you want me to keep going?"

Sehun nods.

He tilts his head to the side, dealing with Sehun's mistake with grace and ease that's exclusively Jongin. "I always collect a souvenir from every place I go to, if possible. _1984_ is my favorite book. I think. I'm not sure. I like rom-coms. No, I like watching movies in general. I like slightly older music."

Sehun listens to him as he keeps going. He thinks he can stay like this for a long time. Just listening to Jongin.

"I had an older brother."

Sehun starts. He suddenly feels like his whole head had been dunked in ice water. He wonders how Jongin can talk about it like - like this. He wishes he can wipe off the solemn look that's suddenly come over his roommate's face. It made him uneasy.

"Had?"

"Yeah," says Jongin, absently patting the empty space beside him. Sehun wonders if he's beckoning him even closer. Neither of them move, though. "Three years older than me. I wasn't really close to him. He never talked to me. Never treated me like a brother. Not really." He pauses. "He passed away several years ago."

Sehun's almost afraid to ask. He feels like he already knows the answer. "How?"

Jongin's Adam's apple is too defined as he swallows. "Suicide." He's quiet for a few seconds. "Jumped in front of a train."

"I'm sorry," Sehun whispers. It sounds terrible.

"I don't remember him all that well." Jongin isn't looking at him. "If there's anything Junmyeon-hyung taught me, it's that you shouldn't let opportunities pass. Most of the time, you'll never be in that position ever again." He moves, just slightly. "Sometimes, I wonder if I could have prevented it. Had we been close."

"I'm sorry," Sehun repeats. He feels hollow. Useless.

Jongin blinks. Sehun wonders if he's blinking back tears. It doesn't look like it. But you can't ever really tell. A knot forms in his chest, and almost unconsciously, he reaches out for Jongin.

He stops midway, but Jongin seems to understand. He smiles. "You reminded me of him," he says. "At first."

Sehun wonders how Jongin knew what he'd been thinking. Then again, he always does. "At first," he echoes, quietly.

Jongin nods. "But not anymore." Then, softly, so soft Sehun thinks he doesn't say anything at all, adds; "You're just my Sehun-ah now."

He doesn't know what to feel about it. What to feel about how Jongin makes him feel, the things he makes him wonder about. It makes his stomach churn and his head feel light.

Sehun wants to cry. He wants to do something. But he can't.

"What else?" he whispers instead. "What's your favorite food?"

Jongin looks surprised. His smile turns tentative. "I like donuts. Japanese food. Reese. Black bean noodles."

Sehun lets himself wish he can write it all down. "What else?"

Jongin thinks. "Pasta. Will you cook some for me?"

Sehun almost wants to laugh, too. "I can't cook."

Jongin does reach for his hand, meeting him halfway. He holds it, really quickly, just fingers brushing against each other. Then just as quickly, he lets go.

Sehun thinks he might have imagined it.

"I'll eat it anyway," he says.

Sehun knows he will. And knowing makes his heart beat even faster, just a little, and the knot in his chest a little tighter. It's still not unpleasant, not really.

 

When Jongin falls asleep, Sehun leaves to go get actual cough and cold medicine. He buys a box of six donuts, too, for reasons he can't really bring himself to fathom. And he rents a movie.

When he gets back, Jongin is awake, drowsier than ever. "Sehun-ah," he says. He ends up croaking, voice hoarse from sleep and the sore throat.

Sehun instantly passes him a water bottle. He feels like a babysitter.

It's not so bad, considering the smile Jongin gives him once he's finished drinking.

"I got donuts," murmurs Sehun. He drops the plastic bags on Jongin's bed. He rummages through them. He tosses a DVD on his roommate's lap. "And a movie. I wasn't really sure."

Jongin looks taken aback. He's staring at the DVD like he's not quite sure it's supposed to be there. Like Christmas had come early. Again, Sehun feels almost guilty.

The guilt is his only motivation for asking; "Do you want to watch it?"

Jongin blinks. He looks up at Sehun. "Sorry, what?"

Sehun wonders if he's doing it on purpose. "Do you want to watch it?" he repeats, grudgingly. It still comes out dry.

Jongin blinks again. "We don't have anywhere to watch it on."

Sehun feels his jaw drop. He wonders if it actually does.

Jongin grins. "Oh Sehun."

Sehun wants to drop to the floor and curl up in shame. But at the same time, he's a bit proud of himself. For making Jongin smile. The paradox makes him want to kick himself. Or not. He's not sure. "I'm sorry."

His roommate reaches over and flicks his forehead. "Stop." He picks up the DVD. "Have you watched it?" Sehun nods, slowly. Jongin kicks off one of the blankets and sits back against the headboard. "Good. Sit down. Tell me about it."

Sehun looks at him in disbelief.

Jongin beams. "I'm sick."

Sehun sits down. On Jongin's bed. Again. It's even warmer this time. "How are you feeling?" he murmurs.

Jongin beams. It's a bit dim, but Sehun admits that he's relieved to see him considerably brighter. "Better, now that you're here."

Sehun sighs. He watches his roommate open the box of donuts, offering it to him. He politely refuses to take one until Jongin has.

"Jongin?"

He's still eating his donut. As if nothing happened. "Hm?"

Sehun's quiet again, weighing his chances.

Jongin notices. "Sehun-ah - "

"Thank you," he pushes the word out before he can swallow it back, abrupt though it might seem. He's looking down at his hands. He imagines turning the stone over in his palm. "And - for everything, I'm sorry."

Jongin's smiling when he looks up. As he always is. "You're welcome, you know. You've always been welcome." He pauses, just staring at his donut. "It's nice."

Sehun blinks at him.

Jongin's smile widens, just a fraction. "It's nice, having you all to myself today."

Sehun doesn't say anything. Mostly because he's unable to.

He wonders when he's started letting himself do things like this for Jongin; wonders when he's started caring so much about him.

He doesn't really have answers. But that's fine. It's fine. He doesn't need answers.

 

**Track 07.**

Jongin hasn't moved from his bed at all. Not even to stretch. He's completely sprawled out on the mattress, absently flipping through a textbook. His hands are the only ones moving. He looks dejected.

Sehun doesn't notice until he's finished packing.

He stares; waits for his roommate to look up.

"Ready to go?" Jongin even sounds dejected. Sehun wonders if it has to do with him leaving.

He nods. "Why aren't you packing?"

"Because," Jongin's flops back down again. It almost looks painful. "I'm not going home for the holidays."

Sehun frowns. "What?"

"I'm not going," Jongin says simply. He stops. Blinks. Thoughtful. He and Sehun stare at each other for about twenty seconds. "I don't want to go," he finally adds.

Somehow, hearing that makes Sehun feel dejected too. He sighs. "I don't want to go home, either," he says, after some quiet deliberation. "But." He gestures to his half-empty suitcase. There's no point in bringing his clothes when he has a full closet back home.

Jongin's eyes are almost pleading. "Do you really have to go?"

Sehun almost blurts out No, I don't. It's the truth. He'd be lucky if his dad would even be home. If his mother would even call. He looks at Jongin. Then he thinks about his house. His room in the basement, the creaky stairs, the phone Jongin had first called him in. It didn't feel right to not go home for Christmas.

Then again, it didn't feel right to leave Jongin, either.

Sehun wonders why.

He absently sorts through his clothes. He looks at his suitcase, only half of which filled.

Jongin finally moves. He sits up. Sehun knows because he hears the blankets rustling loudly behind him. Like it always does when Jongin gets up too fast. He always moves with a certain kind of quickness to his step whenever he thinks something's going on with Sehun, good or bad.

"Sehun-ah?"

"Do you..." Sehun trails off. Not exactly sure how to phrase his question in a way that would handle rejection smoothly. He flicks a sweater he'd folded up haphazardly. It looks suspiciously like Jongin's. He wonders how that got into his closet. How he didn't even notice it until now.

It's like Jongin himself; worming his way into his life without him really noticing.

Sehun sighs. He can't even leave for Christmas vacation without thinking about Jongin.

"Do I what?"

Sehun turns to face him. Or at least his body turns. His gaze remains glued to Jongin's socks. They don't match. "Do you want to go with me, then?"

He doesn't have to look at Jongin to see the startled look on his face. "Go home?"

"Yeah."

Jongin suddenly scrambles to his feet. "Like, right now? Go home? With you? As in, stay over at your place for Christmas kind of go home - "

Sehun silences him with a glance. Brief eye contact. Holding Jongin's gaze exhausts him sometimes. "Yes. All of the above."

Jongin still looks like he doesn't quite believe him. It's a bit uncharacteristic. "Like have Christmas dinner with you and your family - "

"Christmas dinner will be just you and I," Sehun says. He almost claps a hand over his mouth when his words register. "I mean," he continues hastily, "If you end up going."

Jongin looks ecstatic. "Can I stay for New Year's too?"

That's more like Jongin, Sehun thinks. He finds himself nodding before he even fully comprehends what he just heard.

Jongin's practically jumping. "You better not be joking me right now, Sehun-ah - "

"I'm not." Sehun thinks he might have to hold up a hand and swear on something sacred before he's believed. "Jongin, if you're going - "

He beams. "I am."

"Okay." Sehun falters. Jongin's smile has gotten a bit more disarming lately. More so than usual. So much more so. "Better - " It takes him a while to find the next word. " - hurry. We can't miss the first bus."

He receives another bright smile in return, before Jongin disappears into his closet.

Sehun wonders what he's gotten himself into.

 

Jongin's sitting too close.

His shoulder is digging right into Sehun's, and his thigh practically on top of his. Sehun finds it difficult to breathe. One, because he's not exactly used to this much breaching of his personal space, even after three full months and two weeks of being roommates with Jongin, and two, because said roommate doesn't even seem to notice.

"So, like, am I going to stay in your room or - "

"Jongin, can you - " Sehun wants to press the heel of his hand against his head. But he can't move. He's tried. What he received in turn was Jongin moving even closer. "Calm down. For a second."

Jongin's smile instantly fades, and his eyes soften into rounded orbs. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Just - " Can you move, please? "Headache," he says helplessly.

Jongin's immediately digging around the side pockets of his bag. Sehun thinks he's looking for Advil. The older has taken to bringing around water and painkillers everywhere they go, giving some them to Sehun when he needs it so long as he doesn't take more than two a day. "I have it here somewhere - "

"No," Sehun tells him, hastily, "It's okay. I don't need medicine." He's not lying. He's really certain the headache doesn't have to do with anything out of the box in this case.

Jongin frowns. Or at least, as much as he can frown without completely losing the smile in his eyes. "Hungry?"

Sehun thinks. It takes him a total of three seconds to realize that his stomach is, in fact, hurting. Strange.

"Maybe," he admits.

Jongin's eyes turn even rounder. "Oh my god, we didn't eat breakfast. Or lunch. We're missing lunch too."

Sehun's stomach growls in response. The feeling is a bit new. Hunger isn't exactly something he'd been worried about dealing with in the past year - food always ends up coming right back anyway, he thinks - and yet Jongin's constant persistence for him to regularly eat meals seems to have changed that.

Jongin has changed a lot of things, really. He wonders if he knows that.

Sehun sighs. His stomach growls. "We're stopping for a quick break after an hour -

But Jongin's pulling out something from his bag. He tosses it to Sehun. Banana chips. "From work," he explains. "I have Evian water here, too, if you're interested."

Sehun looks at the chips. Then at Jongin. Back at the chips. Back at Jongin. He thinks Jongin might be god.

Jongin reaches over to open it for him. He doesn't have to extend his hand far, really. He barely has to move, even. That's how close he is. Sehun still can't breathe. He wonders if the headache has something to do with that, too.

"You can't make hunger wait," Jongin says softly. "Especially with you, Sehun-ah," he adds, even softer. So soft that if Sehun isn't so near him, he probably wouldn't hear. "I want you to be healthy."

Sehun glances briefly out the window. The last of the passengers are putting in their heavy luggage. "Chips aren't healthy for you," he says eventually. "Even if they're banana."

Jongin just laughs.

They don't talk much for the first half of the bus ride. Sehun thinks it's because there's really nothing to say - but that's a lie. There's a lot to say. There's always a lot to say when you're with Jongin.

Jongin thrumming with unused energy beside him, restless. And yet he's unspeaking. An odd combination. Sehun thinks Jongin might be more nervous than he is.

But that's ridiculous.

When the bus stops for a 15-minute break at a gas station, Jongin had fallen asleep. His head had lolled back at some point, earphones falling out from both ears, hands carelessly sprawled on his lap.

Jongin still looks attractive. Beautiful, almost.

Sehun doesn't quite know what to make of it.

A part of him wants to reach out and smooth out Jongin's hair, to move him to a more comfortable position. A part of him wants to touch Jongin's hand, run a finger across his palms, maybe brush his fingers against his for more than a few seconds. He thinks it would be warm. Really warm. Jongin's always warm. A part of him feels almost... happy. Happy that Jongin is coming home with him. That he won't be alone.

Another part of him wants to stay away. To turn the bus around and take back what he had offered Jongin. He's scared. Scared of what taking Jongin home might entail. Of having Jongin in his house - on their sofa, sorting through the contents of their kitchen cupboards, in his room. It's like welcoming him into a part of his head, his heart, his life that no one else had ever been to. Not even Lu Han. His home has always been his private space, no matter how lonely it might get. He never had friends over. But Jongin's here, on the same bus, going to the same place.

And somehow, a bigger part of Sehun doesn't mind.

He swallows.

When the bus pulls back into movement, Jongin is jerked awake. He looks around blearily for a second, blinking once, twice, thrice. Then his eyes find Sehun and he manages a sleepy smile. "You didn't wake me up," he says.

It takes a while for Sehun to recover. It's almost uncomfortable. "I - Did you want to go?"

Jongin shakes his head. "I mean, it's kind of embarrassing for you to see me sleeping."

Sehun stares at him for a total of eight seconds. "We share a room."

Jongin blinks. "Oh. Right."

Sehun wonders if Jongin's aware of how much that actually meant to him. If he'd had a choice, he would have gotten a single room in university. Locked himself away. Not gone down for breakfast, lunch. Maybe not even dinner. Never met Jongin. Never gone on night walks, eaten instant noodles, gone on the beach, took care of a sick person.

He turns away. It's almost bizarre, how a single choice can make so many things so different.

"Sehun-ah?"

He doesn't look. "Yeah?"

"Is Lu Han - "

He freezes. Jongin notices. "Sorry."

Sehun shakes his head slowly. "No. It's okay," he murmurs. And it is. It's perfectly okay. He wonders why.

"Is Lu Han - " Jongin seems to find difficulty wording the question. "Is he - his grave - "

Sehun understands. "He's not buried back home."

"Oh."

"He - he was cremated. And his ashes. Were." Sehun has to pause in between words to keep himself on track. "He was taken back to Beijing. Taken back to China. Back to his hometown."

"Oh," Jongin repeats. He's oddly quiet today. "And his family?"

"No one stayed," Sehun says. Softly. "Not after he passed away." _Not even me._

_Especially not me._

Sehun feels like he's going to be sick. He reaches for the Evian and drinks.

Jongin's watching him. "How did you meet Lu Han?"

Sehun drinks a bit more. It doesn't seem to quench his thirst. He swallows thickly when he's done. He wonders where to start.

They're the only ones at the back of the bus. Most of the other passengers were elderly, all sitting near the front doors, or older college students, all asleep in their respective places in the middle rows.

Sehun sighs. His voice is quiet. But Jongin's close, still too close. Close enough to hear every word. "My parents separated the summer before I started high school. My dad and I moved to a new part of the city - new house all of a sudden, new school, no one I knew. It's the most cliché story you'll hear in your entire life." He tightens his grip around the bottle. "When I got to the new high school, this guy - Minseok - was the first one to talk to me. He's Lu Han's best friend. They've been best friends for two years, then."

"Best friends," Jongin repeats.

Sehun nods at him. Without looking up. "It was Lu Han who actually welcomed me in. Dragged me to eat with them, coax me to talk."

When Jongin talks, his voice is just as quiet, maybe even quieter. "Did you like him then?"

Sehun thinks about it. Everything's blurry, and yet vivid. "I don't know," he murmurs. It's not a lie. He worries his bottom lip, hand tight around the bottle cap. "It felt like - like an obligation."

Jongin isn't really looking at him. "Why?"

"That first year, I really liked having Minseok as a friend," Sehun says. With some difficulty. It's hard, trying to come up with a face to match the name. "He was outgoing. Funny."

"And hanging out with him meant having to hang around Lu Han," Jongin finishes for him. Still not looking. It's starting to worry Sehun. "Whether or not you didn't like him."

"At first," Sehun says, softly. "At first, Lu Han's always been just - there. Just there. I don't think he liked me much. Not then." Not ever.

"Did you - " Jongin's frowning down at his lap. "Did you ever fight with either of them?"

"Yeah." Sehun doesn't know why he's still talking. He'd already answered Jongin's question. "I fought a lot with Lu Han. Minseok, a bit." He thinks about suddenly being ignored and having nowhere to sit during lunch. It's trivial, now that he looks back at it. But it meant so much then. Not being alone meant so much. Being alone meant so much more.

Jongin hums. "What about?"

Sehun almost laughs. "Minseok and Lu Han got jealous really easily. Say, if I hang out with Minseok, Lu Han gets angry." It's stupid. "High school drama, you know? My school thrived off of it. They would ignore me for days. Weeks, even. And when they make up - " He stops.

"When they make up?" Jongin prompts. Not unkindly. Never unkindly.

"They talk about me. Make fun of me." Sehun tries to swallow. He finds his throat too dry. "I know it's ridiculous that I got worked up over that - " _But they were my only friends then. My only friends after my parents separated. After having to move and adjust to a new environment. I needed the support. The companionship. Having them do that felt like I had no one._ Sehun finds the words hard to say. So he stays quiet. Leaves it at that.

"It's not." Jongin's voice is completely serious. Grim, even. "It's not ridiculous."

Sehun wonders if he'd ended up saying the words out loud. He doesn't say anything else.

Jongin's still not looking at him. "Did you end in good terms? Before the accident?"

Sehun's throat feels clogged up. Like it's been stuffed with wet tissues. He shakes his head. Wonders if Jongin could see. Wonders if he could tell Jongin about the notes left in his locker. The calls. If now is the right time. If he should tell him that Lu Han's last call on his phone log had been to Sehun. That he'd called Sehun seven minutes before the car crash.

Jongin's fingers are still moving. Neither slowing down nor speeding up. Sehun can hear them tapping on his corduroy pants. "This is frustrating."

Sehun glances at him. "What is?" It's an invitation he'd learned to offer.

He doesn't even look up. Eyes fixated on his hand.

Sehun opens his mouth the exact moment Jongin speaks up.

"Why?"

Sehun swallows. "Why what?"

Jongin sounds agitated. "Why bother staying with someone you didn't even like? Someone who didn't make you happy? If someone makes you happy, makes you want to stay, then that's when you stay. If something or someone makes you want to run, then do it. Run until your legs go numb and your heart is about to explode and you forget how to breathe. Don't hold on to thorns when there are other roses waiting all around you." He's almost out of breath when he finishes.

_I couldn't just leave. I was scared. Scared of what Lu Han would say about me if I left. Scared of what Minseok would think of me, then._

"I liked Minseok," Sehun whispers. "I really did."

"Sehun-ah." Jongin's voice takes on a gentler edge. All of a sudden. There's understanding in his eyes now, amidst the frustration. "There are other people. Other people who can make you happy." He sounds upset and distressed and angry all at the same time. "Your parents just separated. You're in a new neighbourhood. It's your first year in high school. That's a huge thing to try and adjust to all at the same time. You needed better friends." It almost sounds like Jongin's pleading with him. "People who could have made you happy. So much happier."

Sehun stares steadfastly at the back of the seat in front of him. Stares until everything blurs and he's thinking about nothing else but Lu Han's voice over the phone. "There was no one else," he murmurs.

Jongin's fingers suddenly stop moving. Sehun sees it in the edge of his blurry vision. "Me." It's not unpleasant, the way he says it.

Sehun looks up at him. It's still difficult, making eye contact with Jongin. Even after all this time.

Jongin's smiling. "Well, me," he repeats. His smile is soft and beautiful and calming and it makes Sehun's stomach twist painfully. "You have me now."

Sehun's stomach twists even more.

"And - And you will have other people." Jongin turns away to look back down on his lap. His hands are clasped now. "Do you know what 'joie de vivre' means? It's a French saying, I heard."

"Joy of living," Sehun murmurs.

Jongin smiles down at his hands. "That's right. Have you ever felt that? Like you were truly happy to be alive?"

The answer comes lightning quick, and it scares Sehun. _Yeah. When I'm with you._

Jongin looks up at him like he knows the answer. "If I'd made you happy, even just once," he says, voice unnaturally shaky, "Then I would have done my job well." His smile widens. Just a crack. There it is again. Job. As if Sehun is his responsibility and his responsibility alone. "And so now, you can't say there's no one else because you have me. And you'll always have me, for as long as you need me."

Sehun thinks about the gray stone Jongin had thrown. Jongin telling him about his family. There hadn't been hesitation there. And even now, there's none. Jongin seems to do all these things out of sheer want or impulse, and Sehun feels like there's so much he still has to do to ever try to repay him.

And yet, being with Jongin doesn't feel like an obligation. It's never felt like an obligation.

He swallows. "Why?"

Jongin doesn't look at him. But he's smiling. "I guess I'm kind of like your guardian angel."

For a split second, Jongin's smile almost looks sad. But when Sehun blinks, it's as bright as ever.

He wonders if he'd imagined it.

 

Jongin hasn't stopped staring for the last twelve minutes.

Sehun knows because it was 3:42 when they got here. His bedside digital clock reads 3:54 now. He sighs. "You can sit. Walk around. Do whatever you want."

Jongin does a 360, eyes wide as he takes everything in. "I'm surprised," he declares.

Sehun's confused.

"I mean, there are posters." Jongin says it like he can't believe it. He doesn't look like he can, either. "And stuffed animals. We don't have these in our room."

Our room. Sehun clears his throat. "They're unnecessary."

"No, but - this room - it's - " Jongin throws his arms out in an all-encompassing gesture. Sehun's suddenly embarrassed of the art posters up behind the headboard, the small family of teddy bears sitting in a row by his closet, the three shelves behind him messily piled high with books. His father hadn't cleaned up since he's left, he thinks. He wouldn't have. His room isn't messy - but somehow, it feels personal.

Jongin seems to think so, too. "I feel like I know you a lot better. Like I'm getting to know you all over again."

You already know a lot more about me than anyone else, Sehun wants to say. He sits on his bed instead. Grabs a pillow instinctively.

"Oh," Jongin suddenly stops. "Where am I going to sleep?"

Sehun freezes. He hasn't thought about it. "I - "

"I can take the couch," Jongin offers easily.

"No - " That isn't a good idea. His dad coming home tomorrow morning to a stranger on the couch is not a good idea. Sehun fiddles with his pillow. "You can take the bed."

Jongin blinks. "What about you?"

Sehun shrugs. "The floor."

Jongin is immediately horrified. "But I'm the guest."

"Exactly," Sehun says flatly. "So take the bed."

"We're not having this argument." Jongin sniffs at him.

"You're right, we're not." Sehun actually rolls his eyes at him. "You, bed. Me, floor. Done."

Jongin stares at him. "Are you going to be like this just because we're in your house?"

Sehun ignores the jibe. He stands up, throwing his pillow aside. "I'm going to get the luggage - "

Jongin catches him by the wrist. The heater isn't even on and yet he's as warm as ever. Sehun thinks it's unfair. "Sehun-ah - "

Sehun knows what he's going to say. Thank you for letting me stay. Thank you for not leaving me back there. "Don't thank me," he says; as dry as he could even when all he wants is to hold the hand Jongin has around his arm. The thought scares him, but he doesn't shake him off. "Don't be ridiculous, Jongin."

_Not after what you just said on the bus._

Jongin just smiles at him, eyes crinkling at the edges, before loosening his grip. There's hesitancy hovering there. Almost as if he didn't want to let go.

Sehun turns away before he can think much of it.

 

 

**Track 08.**

Sehun realizes three things when he wakes up; one, that he's not back in the dorm room. Two, that he doesn't have class. And that three, he's hungry.

That's strange.

The digital clock on his bedside table tells him that it's only a quarter past nine. Usually the time he goes down for breakfast with Jongin.

He sits up abruptly, roughly rubbing the drowsiness out of his eyes.

Jongin. He'd gone home with Jongin.

He finds the airbed he'd set up for Jongin the night before empty, with the blanket rolled up on top of the pillow. Just like Jongin always makes his bed. Sehun almost expects there to be a rather suspicious note lying on top of it.

Luckily, there's none, but that doesn't stop Sehun from throwing his blankets off himself unceremoniously and dashing out of his room.

He's still too tired, though. More sleep would be greatly appreciated.

The first thing he registers is the smell. Eggs. Bacon. Coffee. Maybe waffles. Or just toast. The exact same smell in the cafeteria that first time Jongin dragged him downstairs to eat. The exact same smell in the cafeteria in the times that followed. The same smell that, last time he'd been here, in this house, had been enough to make his stomach turn and churn. Enough to have him running to the bathroom down the hall.

There's little left of that now. Just naive hunger.

Sehun tries not to think about how much Jongin has to do with it.

He registers the voices next. Quiet laughter. He recognizes Jongin's familiar bass, singing - or humming - something too low for him to hear from the top of the stairs.

He's running down the stairs before he can even ask himself why.

Jongin is standing by the toaster when Sehun gets to the kitchen. A Christmas movie - one of the _Home Alone_ films, he thinks - is on behind him, playing on the old TV Sehun's mother had gotten from a garage sale back when he was twelve. He wonders what it's still doing here.

"Hi," he says, a little breathlessly.

Jongin grins up at him. "Your bed hair is different here than it is back home. Is it the pillows?"

Back home. Sehun grabs a piece of toast - burnt - and finishes it in three bites.

Jongin looks amused. "Hungry?"

"We didn't eat anything since we got here last night," Sehun mutters, pouring himself coffee. He pulls away after a few sips.

Jongin raises an eyebrow.

Sehun almost flushes red. "It - it doesn't taste like the coffee you make."

"Well," Jongin smiles, apparently pleased, "You're right. It's not mine. Your dad made it when he got home this morning."

Sehun puts the mug down before he can drop it. "My dad - "

"He was really nice. A bit gruff. But nice." Jongin hums thoughtfully. "Kind of like how you were at first."

Sehun swallows a huge gulp of coffee. He hadn't been all that nice to Jongin last September. He wonders if things would be have turned out the same if he had been less hostile. If he'd been kinder, more pleasant. If he'd hidden behind smiles around Jongin. If he hadn't been as honest as he had been. He wonders how they would have turned out then. If Jongin would be standing in his kitchen right now if they'd approached other differently.

Sehun finds that he's almost glad they didn't.

He clears his throat. "You met him?"

"Oh, yeah," Jongin almost looks sheepish. "I woke up around seven and went to the bathroom for a bit and when I came out, I heard the front door open and - uhm - " He gestures to the table separating them. He's almost stammering. Like he's still nervous from the encounter. It's uncharacteristic enough to make Sehun feel uncomfortable. "I thought I might as well make breakfast since I'm the guest. I introduced myself and everything. He said it's nice to have me here, and all that polite stuff. Then he excused himself and went upstairs." "

"Oh." Sehun looks down at his hands. That didn't sound like his father and all. Not to him. "I see."

He knows Jongin's eyes have widened. "I'm sure he misses you. Just that he's - "

"It's fine," Sehun says. And it is. "It's fine. He'll come down after he's slept for a few hours."

Jongin's face falls for a second. He looks heavily certain. Family matters obviously made him uncomfortable, and knowing that tugs at something in Sehun's chest. "Sehun-ah."

"It's fine, Jongin, don't worry about it." He's used to it. He is.

Jongin seems to be looking at anywhere else but him.

Sehun sighs. "Did my dad say anything else?"

Sehun watches him turn towards the fridge, as if it's something he's lived with all his life. It almost feels as if Jongin is as much of a permanent fixture in this house as the old television set behind them. He doesn't particularly mind.

"There was one thing." Jongin's looking steadily at the fridge. "You said Christmas dinner would be just you and I," he adds. It sounds rather intimate, the way he phrases it. Sehun fights the urge to look away out of reflex. "But - doesn't that mean we'll have to cook for ourselves?"

"Oh," Sehun echoes. He looks at the burnt toast and the burnt bacon and the eggs - which aren't so bad, really. He looks up to find Jongin scrutinizing his expression. "Your cooking isn't completely bad," he manages. "Not as bad as you made it out to be."

"I can burn water if you leave me alone in the kitchen long enough," Jongin tells him solemnly. "But I'd rather not leave a bad impression on your father." He pauses, with a slight frown. "Point is, he said we should go shopping. For ingredients. The fridge is quite literally empty."

Sehun finishes the rest of the coffee. "Do you want to - " He frowns. It's still difficult to ask Jongin things. It's bizarre, having told him about things he hadn't told anyone else and yet having difficulty asking him small little invitations. Things that friends naturally ask each other.

 _Friends_. He suddenly finds it a bit difficult to swallow, and so he pushes the words out; "Do you want to go somewhere today, then? Or do you want to stay home and just leave it for tomorrow - "

"No!" Sehun doesn't have a hard time imagining Jongin as a dog with a wagging tail like this. "I mean, we could stay home and watch movies or something, but - " He breaks off. As if recoiling. It's very unlike Jongin. He's almost bashful, and it's disconcerting. "Going shopping for food would be nice." He smiles, shyly.

Sehun pretends he doesn't find it endearing. That his stomach isn't twisting again. And it's not because of breakfast. It's hardly ever been because of breakfast since he's met Jongin. He sighs through his teeth. "There's a grocery store within walking distance from here," he says. Tries not to meet his roommate's eyes. "And a bakery across that. We should be fine."

"Okay." Jongin smiles. It's a grateful one this time, and Sehun, somehow, feels like stuffing the rest of the burnt pieces of toast down his throat.

 

Neither of them has really experienced a proper Christmas dinner in a while, and they stand in the middle of the grocery entrance for a good ten seconds before they realize that they have no idea whatsoever what they're expected to buy.

"What do people usually eat during Christmas dinners?" Sehun mutters.

"Chicken?" Jongin guesses keenly.

Sehun blinks. "Isn't that what you want to eat?"

Jongin blinks back. Ever the innocent one. "We're the ones eating the dinner."

Sehun sighs. Point taken.

They wander idly towards the poultry section. Jongin takes a total of twenty minutes to decide between legs, wings, or breasts. Sehun watches and waits with a practiced kind of patience he hadn't even realized he'd honed over the past couple of months.

Jongin eventually goes with a whole chicken, and Sehun wheels their cart away before he starts doubting his choice.

"Are we getting desert after this?" Jongin asks as they pass through a whole aisle of holiday-themed chocolate bars.

Sehun nods. "What else should we buy?"

He waits a few beats, obediently pushing the cart forward, but ten seconds pass without him getting an answer. He stops, pulls the cart a few aisles back, and realizes he's alone.

Jongin's gone.

Panic is the first emotion to take control.

He moves the cart forward, almost tripping over his feet in his urgency, eyes darting frantically around in search of a familiar head of dark red hair.

He wonders if this is how mothers feel when they lose their child in the mall.

Or if this is a whole other thing altogether.

When he reaches the end of the grocery store, he turns the cart back immediately, only to almost run into someone.

"Sehun?"

A familiar face greets his eyes. Round and fair. Wide, single-lidded eyes staring at him in slight shock.

Sehun suddenly can't breathe. His winter jacket is suddenly too hot, his beanie too warm around his ears, and his scarf tight around his throat. He can't figure out whether his heart is beating too fast, or not at all. He can't swallow, but words can't come out, either.

"It _is_ you! Oh my god, I almost didn't recognize you." His voice hasn't changed. His smile hasn't, either. Both are still as gracious as ever; both still with that quiet condescension lying just underneath the surface. None of it has changed, as far as he can remember. They're still enough to make him forget how to move, breathe, talk. "I didn't think you'd be coming home for Christmas - "

"Sehun-ah, there you are!"

Air rushes into Sehun's lungs so fast that he thinks it's a wonder he doesn't gasp loud enough to be attract attention. His heart jumpstarts back into regular action; and the temperature seems to have miraculously gone down a few degrees, thankfully.

Jongin's beaming at him as he walks over, Sehun observes dazedly. He has a small box of potatoes in his arms, with a few packets of gravy and cranberry sauce mix on top of it. "I went to ask one of the workers if they had this, since I wanted to make mashed potato, and when I turned around, you've disappeared - Sehun-ah?" He breaks off, and the look of concern in his eyes is of a caliber Sehun hasn't seen before.

Sehun realizes his eyes had glazed over. He blinks rapidly. "I was looking for you," he says, unhelpfully. It comes out hoarse. He's trying really hard to focus on Jongin. Just Jongin. He thinks that if he looks away, the illusion will be shattered and he wouldn't be able to breathe. His heart would stop beating, he thinks, and he'll pass out on the spot. He searches his head for words. Anything. "I - "

"Oh." He's interrupted abruptly, and it's then that Jongin notices the third party. They blink at each other. "Sehun. You brought a friend home with you."

 _Friend_. There it is again. It's pronounced disdainfully.

Even now, Sehun hasn't really figured out if Jongin isn't capable of sensing the atmosphere, or if he is - just that he selectively chooses when he would or would not do something about it. But for the first time since he and Sehun have met each other, Jongin's smile is guarded.

"Care to introduce us, Sehun-ah?"

Sehun swallows. His hands curl into a fist. They stay like that as he looks up, meeting a pair of eyes he hadn't seen in several months. Almost a year. "Hyung, this is Kim Jongin. My - " The word gets stuck in his throat. He forces it out, with some difficulty. "My roommate." No, that's not right. Jongin's looking at him. "My friend. This is my friend, Jongin."

Jongin's eyes are round. Sehun wishes he can relish the momentary happiness in them - happiness because of him. But all too soon, it would be wide because of another reason altogether. Sehun knows that. And he wishes he can take Jongin's hand and run.

His voice is shaky as he continues; "And Jongin, this is - " His hands loosen back into palms, slack against his sides.

He's shaking really hard. He feels dizzy.

"This is Kim Minseok, an old - " He swallows. He can't say _friend._ Minseok had never been a friend, he thinks. "An old schoolmate."

Minseok greets Jongin with a nod. His smile hasn't wavered. It hasn't widened. It hasn't faded.

Jongin's has, though. Recognition flashes in his eyes, and his expression changes for a split second. And then his smile is back at full force. But it's not the same. "Sehun-ah has told me a lot about you." There's a certain edge to his voice. Not entirely rough or unpleasant, but not quite otherwise, either. "It's nice to finally put a face to the name."

Minseok doesn't seem to be entirely oblivious to the bite. Only one side of his mouth is quirked up by the time Jongin finishes. Sehun thinks that nothing really, really, really has changed about him. "Sehun-ah," he repeats, laughing lightly. He's mocking them, almost. The scene is so familiar that it makes Sehun's head spin. "Well, you two seem close."

Sehun wants to say something, he really does, but Jongin beats him to it. "We are." His voice is tight this time. In a way that it's never been before. Not even when he's told Sehun off.

"And how long have you two known each other?" Minseok chuckles. Airily. As if dismissing them both. That hasn't changed, either. "No - how long have you been living together?"

Sehun understands his implication first. He has three years of experience under his belt. He finds his voice, then. If he has to describe how he felt right then and there, he wouldn't be able to. His hands are shaking, and his head is spinning, and he doesn't really know anything else but that. And Jongin. Jongin's silent beside him.

"We're not together," he says. Quietly. Not loud enough. Never loud enough around Minseok. "I don't - You know I don't - "

Minseok nods. Raises an eyebrow. "I know," he echoes, flat and flippant. "But it's only been what, three months? Two?" He laughs. "Knowing you, Sehun-ah - "

Jongin suddenly breaks into laughter of his own. Loud and tart. It sounds wrong to Sehun's ears. "No, see, that's the funny thing," he says, tone unchanging and smile unwavering, "You _don't_ know him."

Minseok's lips are a flat line. "If Sehun here really has talked about me that much, then you'd know that we've been friends for all of high school - "

"We seem to have read different dictionaries, then," Jongin counters curtly. There's a quiet buzz of energy around him that Sehun doesn't quite recognize. That he can't quite recognize because his head is still spinning and he's ridiculously close to passing out. "Because last time I checked, the definition of the word 'friend' doesn't involve the things you did to him."

"You shouldn't trust what you think you know too much." Minseok's lips curl back up to a smile. He reclaims Sehun's gaze, and he doesn't look away as he says; "Sehunnie here has a bit of a lying streak. Or did he not tell you what he did?" His voice has turned to dripping pure venom. The exact same tone he'd used the last time they'd talked. That night of Lu Han's accident. "If you knew, you wouldn't be so keen on being friends with him, much less something more." He finishes off with a slight tilt to his head, as if sharing a private joke with Sehun. "Wouldn't he, Sehun-ah?"

Sehun's shaking. He's shaking really, really, really hard and his head feels like it's being split open. It feels like he's been dragged, bound and gagged, and physically dropped from a high place back into the past.

He wants to throw up.

People are still bustling around them. They've long since blurred into quiet movement in the background. There's just him, Minseok, and -

Jongin.

Jongin's looking at him. Sehun stares down at his shoes. He doesn't want to see the look in his roommate's eyes, whatever it might be.

They're all quiet for a second. And then Jongin says; "This is ridiculous."

Minseok just smiles. As polite as ever. As quietly scornful as ever. Ever the quieter, false-hearted yin to Lu Han's loud, attention-garnering yang. Sehun feels sick.

"Maybe." His eyes are trained on Jongin. "Jongin, was it?"

Jongin holds his gaze steadfastly. He nods.

"Well, then, Jongin-ssi, one other thing." Minseok's eyes narrow the slightest bit. And the anger is briefly blatant in them. "He's a liar, this one. I'll keep that in mind, if I were you."

Then he nods, as if mockingly tipping off his hat, before he turns to leave.

Jongin just watches him go. And when he's out of sight, he grabs Sehun by the wrist and steers him away. As if he should be the one ashamed. As if he should be the one grabbing him and running away from Minseok.

But Sehun doesn't have the presence of mind to do anything but allow himself to be led around the store to finish the rest of their grocery shopping in silence.

 

Jongin's humming a carol under his breath as he kicks off his shoes. _Little Drummer Boy._ He breaks off mid-rum-pum-pum when Sehun drops one of the plastic bags in the middle of the foyer.

Sehun doesn't really notice. His mind doesn't seem to be functioning. His heart might as well not be, either. He can't feel his hands, his legs, his head, his body. He can't feel himself. Everything has long since stopped spinning, only to fade away into a dull ache in his head and his chest.

It's almost too familiar.

Jongin doesn't say anything. He walks over and picks up the bag himself. He hands it back to Sehun, hands closing around Sehun's chilled fingers for a few seconds.

The warmth is familiar, too, but Sehun pulls away.

"Sorry," he murmurs.

Jongin flicks his forehead half-heartedly. "For what? For that?"

Sehun doesn't know what 'that' refers to, so he doesn't say anything. Jongin's too close. But he doesn't have the energy to move away.

He doesn't have the energy to move, period.

"I don't like him," Jongin whispers. "Minseok. He was kind of a dick."

Sehun thinks this might be his attempt at lightening the mood. But he doesn't have the energy to entertain it; he really doesn't.

"He was right, though," he says, deadly quiet, instead. They stand there, by the front door, illuminated only by the dim porch light outside. Whispering at each other.

Jongin isn't looking at him. He takes the bag from Sehun again, fingers brushing, and sets them down by the shoe shelf. "What was he right about?" he asks, softly.

Sehun stares down at his shoes. Covered with snow. He inhales. "I'm a liar."

Jongin's silent. And then he moves forward, even closer - closer and closer until Sehun's senses are filled with nothing but him. He can feel Jongin's warmth, see nothing else but him, hear nothing else but his quiet breathing. His hand somehow finds Sehun in the dark, and his fingers slip between his.

Sehun lets him.

He lets Jongin's other hand find his shoulder and turn him so that he's facing him. He lets Jongin hook a finger under his chin - so, so, so warm - and tilt his face upwards.

"I don't think so," Jongin whispers. He shakes his head. Slowly. He looks Sehun in the eye, fingers lingering around his cheeks. "Have you ever lied to me, Sehun-ah?"

It's almost intoxicating; the faith - the trust - Jongin has in him. Sehun, with some difficulty, finds that he wants more. That he doesn't ever want Jongin to not believe in him. That he doesn't ever want Jongin to let go.

He wants more of Jongin.

"I don't know," he whispers back.

All too suddenly, Jongin's pulling away.

And all too suddenly, the panic comes back. The same panic that hit him this morning when he saw the empty airbed. The panic he felt when he lost Jongin at the grocery store.

Before he can realize what he's doing, before he can stop himself, Sehun's reaching out. He tightens his hold around Jongin's hand and -

He stays like that, exhaling shakily.

Jongin gives his hand a mildly surprised squeeze. "Sehun-ah?"

"I don't know, Jongin," he sighs. "I don't know anything anymore."

Another squeeze. "But?"

"But," Sehun says, breathlessly, "Everything. Everything I told you. I didn't - I didn't lie." _I would never. Maybe then. But not now. Not ever_.

"Sehun-ah," Jongin murmurs, "You told me before you were 'fine'. That it's 'nothing'. You used to tell me those things. Those were lies."

"You - " Sehun's throat feels constricted. He doesn't have the energy to swallow back his words. "You were the first person to ever realize they were lies."

He thinks Jongin might be smiling at their joint hands. "You called me a friend today."

"That wasn't a lie," Sehun says quietly. "And about today - " He breaks off.

There's a soft hum, urging him to go on.

"I'm sorry. For today." He pauses. "For Minseok."

Jongin's hand tightens around him even more. It's almost as if he doesn't want to let go himself. "I meant it when I said it was ridiculous." He's quiet for several seconds. "But Sehun?"

Not Sehun-ah. Just Sehun. He suddenly feels asphyxiated. "Yeah?"

Jongin lets go of his hand. Sehun fights the urge to snatch it back. "Promise me that you'll be honest. From here on out."

Somehow, the way he says it, Sehun gets the feeling Jongin isn't referring to him talking about his past. He nods, nonetheless. "I promise."

Jongin turns away, slightly, before turning right back. "And one other thing," he adds softly.

Sehun's hands feel cold without Jongin's fingers around them. "What is it?"

It happens fast.

So fast Sehun thinks he might have imagined it.

Sehun feels the hands around his biceps, grasp tight. But he doesn't see or feel Jongin moving forward, quickly, until it's done.

Jongin leans in, and kisses his cheek, lips brushing against it, feather light.

And then he pulls away, almost as if it never happened.

He turns then. Picks the bags up. "Stop lying to yourself, too, Sehun-ah," he whispers into the dead silence of the house. "About anything. It's alright. You'll be - we'll be - we'll figure it out. Sometimes, you're not okay. And that - that's okay."

He walks a few steps forward, stops, glances over his shoulder slightly.

"Don't worry about falling in love."

Sehun can't see Jongin's expression. He almost wishes he can.

 

 

**Track 09.**

Sehun wakes up with a start at 5am sharp.

The house is quiet and still. Quiet enough for him to hear the front door close downstairs. And then, barely seconds later, heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. Familiar ones. His dad.

He closes his eyes, wonders if his dad's going to open the door and check up on him. He hears him stop right outside his door.

Sehun opens his eyes and watches the seconds tick by on the digital clock by his bedside.

There's silence for twenty seconds.

Twenty seconds, and then his dad walks away. Sehun hears his footsteps come down the remainder of the hall, towards his room at the very end. The room his parents used to share. He hears the door close with a hushed creaking -

\- and then the house is quiet and still again.

Sehun turns away from the clock, only to face Jongin's sleeping form on the airbed. His hair is falling over his eyes. He's lying still under his comforter, breathing even and body relaxed. For someone who's usually so restless, he's relatively still when he's asleep.

But Jongin suddenly stirs, just faintly, eyebrows knitting together in slight discomfort. Sehun wonders if he's having a bad dream; if he should wake him up.

He pretends he doesn't feel like going over to hold his hand.

_Stop lying to yourself, too, Sehun-ah._

He doesn't think he can go back to sleep.

He arranges himself in a more comfortable sitting position, and scoots closer to the window. Away from Jongin.

It's still dark outside; but in the light of the streetlamps, he sees that it's snowing. A white Christmas this year. It's falling steadily. Soundless and almost mesmeric.

Jongin will love it, Sehun thinks.

He sighs and looks down at his hands. He thinks about his own dream.

He hasn't dreamt in a while, not since summer started, and this dream isn't particularly memorable, but it comes back to him with shocking clarity.

He's standing in the middle of an empty plaza, snow falling around him. Just as soundless, just as mesmerizing. He's wearing a coat, and he has a bouquet of flowers in his hand. But despite the attire, he's cold. He's terribly cold.

And even in his dream, he longs for Jongin's warmth.

He stands there for a long time, he thinks. Waiting. For what, he doesn't really know. He stands there, in the middle of all the snow, flowers in his hand, and waits.

Then somewhere in the plaza, a clock chimes. Twelve times. Midnight. And for some reason, for some reason that really bothers Sehun now, he starts running. He runs and runs and runs. He slips on the snow a few times, but he keeps running.

Sehun thinks someone must be chasing him, for him to be running that fast. For it to be so urgent. But he doesn't find out. The dream ends with him mid-run.

He sighs again, and looks back out the window.

"Sehun-ah?"

Sehun jumps - as much as he can when he's sitting on his bed - and turns in surprise at Jongin. He'd sat up, blinking drowsily. "Sorry," he murmurs, "Did I wake you up?"

Jongin shakes his head blearily. "No, no." He reassures in between yawns. "Why are you up? What time is it?"

"Five," Sehun tells him quietly. "Go back to sleep."

Jongin nods groggily, and his head flops back down onto his pillow. His breathing turns even within seconds, and Sehun almost sighs in relief.

He looks at Jongin, and hates that that increasingly familiar twisting in his stomach comes automatically.

_Don't worry about falling in love._

He wishes someone had told him that in high school. Maybe things would have been less complicated.

Sehun wonders if he'd dreamt about last night, too.

He doesn't know how long he sits there, absently staring out the window. By the time he decides to get out of bed, the sun's already up, painting the sky colors Sehun wouldn't have been able to describe even if he'd been born with an artistic bone in his body.

He doesn't stay to watch. He gets up, haphazardly making his bed, and tiptoes around the airbed.

He sneaks a brief glance at Jongin, before closing the door behind him quietly.

 

It occurs to Sehun, around 10:00, that he needs to have a gift for Jongin.

It also occurs to him that he has no idea what to get; that he has no idea where he can even get something, considering it's the day of Christmas Eve.

And that there's a 98.9% chance Jongin got something for him.

The thought makes his stomach churn unpleasantly.

He sits by himself in the living room, blinking thoughtfully at the ceiling. He thinks so hard he thinks his brain will start hemorrhaging within the next few seconds. He still comes up blank. Just like he has for the past five hours he's been up.

He groans and turns on the couch. He buries his face in one of the cushions. He thinks the dream, in addition to last night, has rendered him completely unable to think about anything else.

A door opens somewhere upstairs.

"Sehun-ah?"

"Down here," he calls back, half-heartedly.

Jongin's steps down the stairs are loud and distinct. He leaps over the last couple of steps, grinning brightly, one hand holding a towel around his neck and -

Sehun swallows the moment he looks up. He almost ends up choking.

Little beads of water are running down Jongin's neck, trickling down his Adam's apple. Down to his collarbones.

The unpleasant churning is back.

Sehun dismisses the thought. He's seen Jongin like this before, too many times to count. He's seen Jongin wet from a shower, seen him shirtless in bed, seen him lick an ice cream cone clean that one time the cafeteria had ice cream for dessert instead of the usual fruit salad. He'd been absolutely unbothered before - without taking into the account the fact that he couldn't even look him in the eye back then.

The churning must come from something else, he decides.

Jongin's smile is blinding. "Good morning."

But then he thinks about Jongin's hands last night and Jongin's lips light against his cheek and suddenly, there's not enough air around him, the cushion is too stifling and the couch feels like it's about to burn the back of his knees off.

He's too awake for someone who hasn't had enough sleep.

"Morning," he manages, weakly.

Jongin's smile turns cheeky. He tugs at the hem. "I borrowed a shirt."

"Oh" is Sehun's intelligent reply. He hates that his stomach lurches and twists again. He hates that it's been doing that endlessly since last night. Like he's on a never-ending roller coaster.

And he hates that it seems to be doing it more because the shirt - his shirt, apparently - looks really good on Jongin.

Jongin stretches and yawns, completely oblivious to Sehun's crisis. "I was too lazy to pull out something from my suitcase," he explains, even though the words fall on semi-deaf ears. Sehun's still trying to sort his thoughts out. "And this shirt was kind of sticking out of your closet, so I just took it."

Sehun just nods. He wonders if his discomfort is too obvious.

It is. Jongin peers at him. He doesn't step closer, for once. "Sehun-ah?"

He shakes his head. "Sorry. Just - spacing out."

Jongin isn't buying it. "Is it about what I did last night? Because if it is - "

"No," Sehun lies hastily. "No, it's not. Don't - don't worry about it. I'm just - thinking."

"About what?" Jongin moves to sit down next to him, still yawning. Sehun practically scrambles to press himself against the other side of the couch. His roommate raises an eyebrow. "So it is about last night?"

"No!" Sehun almost raises his hands; either in surrender, because he's pretty sure Jongin has seen through him at this point like he's completely transparent - or out of embarrassment, because it's ten in the morning and he's being more vocal than he's usually capable of being. "No - " He falters at the look he gets. Jongin's staring at him like he's being x-rayed. He feels personally violated. "Really."

Jongin does a cross between a scoff and a laugh. "Right. Okay."

"It's not," Sehun insists. He pretends not to notice that Jongin doesn't even seem to regret his actions. Like that kiss didn't come out of nowhere.

Like he's been meaning to do that for quite some time.

Sehun stays quiet. He thinks about it. Jongin looks at him patiently. As always. He thinks about it some more, and he hates that maybe - maybe he doesn't mind.

"So?" Jongin prompts, not looking at Sehun. He thinks his roommate might be looking for the TV remote. "What's my Sehun-ah thinking about?"

Sehun rolls his eyes. It feels almost rejuvenating. He doesn't say anything.

Jongin looks up to stare at him pointedly as soon as he finds the remote.

He sighs. "A dream."

Jongin turns the remote in his hand. It looks he's trying to figure out if he should look concerned. Sehun knows he'll worry anyway. "What happened?"

It isn't until Jongin asks him that Sehun realizes he doesn't quite remember it as vividly as he did earlier. He frowns down at his lap. "I - " He pauses. "I don't really remember."

Jongin hums. "Nothing at all? Is that what's bothering you?"

"Well, no." Sehun frowns some more. "Snow was falling. I was in the middle of the plaza, I think. I was holding flowers."

Jongin just nods. "And then?"

"I'm - waiting for someone, I think," Sehun says, hesitantly. "But then, suddenly, I start running - " He breaks off mid-sentence, pronouncing it like a question. "And I just keep running. Then I woke up."

Jongin turns the remote over in his hand. "Was someone chasing you?"

"I don't know," Sehun says. "It felt like it."

Jongin hums again.

Sehun looks at him. "What is it?"

"Well," Jongin begins, "They say that when you dream about being chased, you're dealing with feelings of anxiety." He's quiet for a few seconds. "Or your chaser could also represent a part of yourself you're running away from. Maybe an emotion you haven't really accepted."

Sehun's quiet, too. _That's ridiculous_ , he want to say. But it fits. It all fits.

Jongin sighs and leans back. "Or you're just dreaming because of what happened yesterday."

"Jongin," Sehun sighs back. "I told you it has nothing to do with that."

"That's not what I mean." Jongin looks at him levelly now. "I meant - I meant running into Minseok."

Sehun almost blanches. He settles for stiffening instead. "I - "

"That freaked you out," Jongin says, quiet but flat. Then his eyes soften. "I can tell, Sehun-ah. Anyone would have been able to tell. I thought you were going to pass out."

"It felt like I was," Sehun mutters honestly. _If you hadn't come along._

Jongin frowns worriedly. "Sehun-ah - "

"Later," Sehun decides. "Later."

Jongin lets it go. He smiles. Just a small one. "Okay. Should we start cooking?"

 

They hadn't ended up buying the potatoes, after all. Sehun hadn't even noticed.

All they had to work with was a whole chicken and a packet of cranberry sauce mix.

Jongin looks particularly frustrated. "Where do we start?"

Sehun, in all honesty, did not know how to reply. He seats himself by the kitchen island and watches his roommate fret over their ingredients. It's almost funny.

Jongin pokes at the chicken. "I should have just bought the legs, or the wings. That would have been easier to fry."

"We can stick this into the oven," Sehun offers. He stands up to rummage through the cupboards, only to find himself feeling considerably lost. He hadn't stepped into the main kitchen since his mother left. "Should we - "

He stops short. Jongin has come around behind him, as close as he'd been last night, absently rooting through the same cupboard. With both hands. Encasing Sehun in a makeshift cage between his arms. He grabs a salt and pepper shaker nonchalantly. "We should add some, don't you think?" He muses, voice thoughtful. As if he isn't making Sehun's heart race. As if he isn't close enough for there to be a repeat of last night. "Sehun-ah?"

Sehun jumps - quite literally this time. Jongin is too close for comfort. That in itself is already a frequent occurrence. And yet the uneasiness he feels this time is different.

Probably because he finds that he wants to lean back, just a little bit closer.

Sehun ducks out from under Jongin's arms. "Yeah," he says, a bit breathless, before his roommate can ask. "Butter, too, if we have some." He turns promptly and walks over to the fridge. Pretending that his heart isn't beating a bit too fast and that his stomach isn't doing its lurching thing again.

He hears Jongin sigh behind him. "Are you seriously okay?"

Sehun nods.

"Sehun-ah."

"Jongin."

Jongin sticks his tongue out at him. "Stop."

"I'm not doing anything," Sehun shoots back. "Get started on the chicken."

"Wow, bossy in the kitchen," Jongin teases. "Is this what our life together ten years from now is going to be like?"

Sehun drops the carton of milk he'd taken out of the fridge in his search for butter. It clatters to the ground but fortunately, doesn't spill.

It's quiet as he bends to pick it up.

"Sehun-ah," Jongin says, voice suddenly solemn. "What's going on with you today?"

Sehun swallows. "Nothing." He pauses. "Don't - don't say things like that."

Jongin sighs. He's been sighing a lot lately. "Why? Is the idea of spending ten more years with me - is it really that bad?"

Sehun almost drops the carton again. He spins to frown at Jongin. It's incredibly unsettling, hearing that sort of words come out of his roommate's mouth. "I didn't mean it like that."

_I would spend forever with you if I could._

Sehun doesn't know where the thought comes from, and it scares him.

But then Jongin shakes his head, and somehow - somehow, that scares him even more. The air in the kitchen is suddenly too stifling.

"I know," Jongin says, oddly quiet. "There's no chance anyway."

Sehun feels like he's been slapped, and he doesn't quite understand. "Jongin - "

"Sehun-ah," Jongin cuts him off. "You know, I think you'll go places. Ten years from now, you'll be really successful. I'm sure of it." He smiles up at Sehun. But it's a different smile. Sehun doesn't think he likes it all that much. "And when you do, don't forget me - "

"Don't be ridiculous," Sehun mutters, turning away and shoving the milk carton back into the fridge. He wonders if this the first time he's interrupted Jongin like this. In that split second, he thinks, it's like their roles have been reversed. "That's ridiculous," he declares, brain-to-mouth filter completely off. "Wherever I'll end up being, I'm sure you'll be there. If you're not - " He almost chokes on the words. Almost. His throat closes up on him. But he sees Jongin's smile in his head, and he swallows and pushes through; "If you're not, I'll look for you. And I'll have that yellow stone you gave me."

Jongin doesn't say anything. When Sehun turns, he sees him simply standing there, looking uncertain.

But then Jongin nods, mostly to himself.

Sehun doesn't wait for him to say anything. Sometimes, he thinks, it's through silence that the most words are exchanged between the two of them.

So he pulls the tub of butter out of the fridge and places it on the island.

"Get started on the chicken," he repeats.

Jongin doesn't bother hiding a smile.

 

The chicken is unexpectedly good.

They finish cooking around four o'clock - it's late, but it's a miracle in and of itself that they finished in the first place, Jongin declares. They spend more than an hour eating in comfortable silence, and by the time Sehun's piling the dishes on to the dishwasher, it's six o'clock and it's pitch black and freezing outside.

Nevertheless, Jongin asks; "Do you want to go for a walk?"

And Sehun says yes.

Jongin huddles close as soon as they get outside. "Where should we go?" The street is empty, but his voice is barely above a whisper.

Sehun thinks about it. "I don't really know," he murmurs back.

"But you live around here." Jongin nudges him. There's not enough force behind it for it to be painful. "Is there anywhere we can go?"

"That will be open on Christmas Eve?" Sehun points out.

"There has to be something," Jongin insists. "Like a bar or something. People go out for drinks on Christmas, right?"

"A bar," Sehun repeats dryly.

Jongin rolls his eyes. "It's not like we're that much underage."

Sehun raises an eyebrow. "Are you secretly a budding alcoholic?"

Jongin nudges him again. "Think of it as a Christmas gift for me."

Sehun suddenly stops. He inhales sharply.

Jongin does, too. "What?"

Sehun exhales. "I don't have a gift for you," he admits, words tumbling over each other.

"And you don't have to have one." Jongin doesn't even wait a second to reply. Sehun feels guilty. "Inviting me over is enough. More than enough."

Sehun doesn't buy it. "Jongin."

Jongin shakes his head stubbornly. "Seriously."

Sehun ignores him. "Did you get me something?"

Jongin's quiet for a few seconds. "Yeah," he says, eventually.

"Exactly why I have to get you one," Sehun shoots at him. He sighs. "Let's keep walking. If you see something you like, I'll try to get it for you tomorrow."

Jongin doesn't budge. "Anything?"

Sehun nods.

Jongin still doesn't move.

Sehun stops again, to turn and look at him. His roommate is staring intently at the ground, hands shoved into his pockets and half of his face hidden under his scarf.

"Jongin?"

"You can't."

Sehun's confused. "What?"

 

"Hey, look - about last night." Jongin sighs into his scarf. The sound is loud in the empty street. "If it really - if it really bothered you - I won't do it again. I promise. I should have asked."

Sehun stares at him for a long, long time. Jongin doesn't look up, keeping his face buried in his scarf.

He thinks about it. He thinks about the kiss, and -

It doesn't bother him. Not the way Jongin seems to think it does. He clenches his hands and counts to ten before laying them flat against the sides of his legs. "Did you mean that? Did you mean to do it?

The surprise on Jongin's face lasts longer than he usually lets it. But his answer is firm, if quiet. "I did. It was selfish."

Sehun barely catches the whisper. His heart is beating fast. Fast, fast, fast. "I didn't mind the selfishness."

Jongin's raised his head away from his scarf now. But he doesn't say anything, so Sehun drops that, too.

He clears his throat. "So, selfish one, what can I get for you this Christmas Eve?"

Jongin looks like he's barely thinking about what he's saying. His stare is miles away. "You can't give it to me. Not really."

A streetlamp flickers above them. Sehun frowns. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," Jongin murmurs. He finally moves, and the moment is shattered, both of them shuffling forward almost reluctantly. "Let's keep going. I want hot chocolate."

Sehun doesn't have it in him to question anything.

They settle for the bakery across the grocery store they were in yesterday. Jongin politely pretends not to notice Sehun's sigh of relief when he finds the bakery relatively empty; the only other occupants are an elderly couple and a mother with her toddler.

They leave as soon as they buy two medium hot chocolates, courtesy of Sehun's wallet.

Jongin takes a sip the moment they step back outside. "Sehun-ah?"

Sehun stirs his hot chocolate, pretending his hand doesn't feel like it's been stuck into its own personal freezer. "Yeah?"

"Does Minseok live around here?"

Sehun's stirring doesn't falter. "Yeah," he says, not quite as soft as he intended. "He lives a couple blocks away from my house." He stops, looks up at his roommate's expectant expression. An unspoken follow-up question. "Lu Han does, too."

"Did," Jongin corrects quietly.

"Did," Sehun repeats. He swallows. "Did. Lu Han did."

Jongin doesn't really have anything to say in response to that.

He eventually sighs. "Sehun-ah," he says, faintly, "Why - why was Minseok like that? Why was he so - so - " He breaks off, searching his head for the right word. "Hostile? Has he always been - "

"Like that?" Sehun shakes his head slightly. "Minseok-hyung was always the nicer one."

Jongin blinks, confused. "But - yesterday, he was - "

"He hates me, Jongin," Sehun says, quietly.

Jongin's grip around his hot chocolate tightens. He almost stops walking again. "Why would he?"

Sehun stares down at his own cup as they walk. "Because he blames me for - " He finds that it's difficult to talk. He clears his throat. "For what happened to Lu Han."

Jongin remains quiet, waiting for him to continue. If he wanted.

So Sehun does. "The night of the accident," he begins, voice so low and faint it's a wonder he can even hear himself talk, "Lu Han called me. He wanted to meet up - in that bakery and - talk. Just talk, that's what he said."

_We need to clear some things up, Sehun._

"He asked me to pick him up. So I borrowed my dad's car and swung by his house so we can go here together." Sehun turns his cup in his hands. Jongin's quiet. "But, in the car, we had an argument. Lu Han was yelling at me."

_You had no right meddling with my life!_

_I was just trying to help -_

_You lied to me, Sehun. That wasn't helping._

He pauses. If he closes his eyes, Sehun thinks, it's as if it was only last night it happened.

He bites his lip. "I didn't notice the car coming."

Jongin's still quiet. As always.

"I didn't notice it until it was too late. The driver was drunk. His car hit the passenger's side. Lu Han's side." Sehun's voice dips at that. "After the accident, I was in the hospital for two and a half months, but I got out of it alive and everything intact. Lu Han didn't. I happened to be the unfortunate survivor."

Jongin's gaze is fixated on the ground between them. He's already finished his hot chocolate.

"Unfortunate?"

Sehun doesn't say anything. They've both stopped walking.

Jongin's frowning. "You survived a car crash. That's not unfortunate - "

"I was the one that didn't deserve to survive, Jongin," he says, almost inaudibly. "But I did."

"Says who?" Jongin's voice is tight. "You're being ridiculous. You were lucky, Sehun."

Sehun sips from his hot chocolate, just for show. It's gone cold, and it tastes and feels like rubber on his tongue. He finishes it anyway. "But that's the thing," he murmurs. "It never felt like it." He moves to continue walking - but Jongin grabs him and pulls him back a few steps.

"Sehun-ah," he says, tacitly, "You were lucky. You were lucky to have survived. Don't underestimate your own value."

Sehun sighs. "Jongin - "

"No, listen." Jongin's eyes burn into his. "You were lucky to have survived. I wouldn't have met you if you - if you haven't. And I can't imagine - " He breaks off. He breaks eye contact, too.

 _I can't imagine not having have met you_ , is what Sehun thinks he wants to say.

But maybe that's just wishful thinking.

Sehun looks at the hand around his wrist. It loosens a bit.

_Stop lying to yourself._

"Jongin," he murmurs. He doesn't look at his roommate, but he knows he's raised his head to glance at him. "For what it's worth - " He pauses, weighs his choices.

_Promise me that you'll be honest. From here on out._

He's never been good with words. Words are hard to say; but sometimes - sometimes, Jongin makes it just a little bit easier. "I think I'm more than lucky that I met you."

Jongin's quiet. As if he doesn't quite know what to say. As if he thinks he's dreaming. His expression's unreadable.

Sehun doesn't think he'll say anything; but then -

"You know," Jongin suddenly says, "I never even realized I've been waiting so long to hear you say that." He smiles. "Thank you, Sehun-ah."

Sehun shakes his head at the ground. "Don't be ridiculous."

That's starting to become their catchphrase, Sehun thinks. A motto of sorts.

Jongin laughs, but he doesn't say anything. He takes Sehun's hand with a smile, just like that, swinging their arms on the way home.

As if Sehun's hand has always been his to claim.

Sehun finds that he doesn't mind at all.

 

They agree not to wait for midnight to come. By ten o'clock, Sehun had fallen asleep in the clothes he'd worn outside.

But Jongin wakes him up anyway. He sits on the side of Sehun's bed and gently shakes him awake. "Merry Christmas, Sehun-ah," he whispers.

Sehun peeks at the clock, blinking to get rid of the drowsiness. 12:03. "Merry Christmas," he murmurs. His voice is hoarse from sleep, but Jongin grins at him.

"Sorry for waking you up, I just wanted to greet you," Jongin's smile is hard to make out in the dark. Sehun, drowsy as he is, wants to reach out for him. "Go back to sleep now. Good night - "

"Jongin - " Sehun's half-awake, half-asleep. "Wait."

Jongin sits back down on the bed. "Hm?"

"Doesn't - " He doesn't know what exactly he's trying to ask. He lets the words flow all by themselves. "Doesn't the airbed get uncomfortable?"

He thinks Jongin must be blinking in confusion. "It's alright. I'm fine with it."

"No, I mean," Sehun's fingers curl against his sheets. He's frustrated. With himself, with what he's feeling, with Jongin. "Do you want to - " The numbers change to 12:04. "Do you want to sleep here tonight?"

The question surprises Jongin. Sehun can tell that much, even if he can't see his face. He clears his throat. "I mean, if you want. The bed's big enough for both of us. And you're a guest - " He's rambling. He sighs. "It's Christmas, Jongin."

It's quiet. Sehun thinks Jongin will say no.

But then he laughs. It's an unconfined kind of sound, unhampered and unrestricted.

Sehun, even in his hazy state of consciousness, thinks it's beautiful.

He stares at Jongin's form quietly, trying to make out his features as he laughs.

No, Sehun thinks. It's Jongin - with his stubbornness and his Sehun-ah's and his daily walks and his constant persistence and his quiet encouragements - it's Jongin himself that's beautiful.

He swallows.

_Don't worry about falling in love._

He's really not.

"Okay," Jongin eventually says.

Jongin fits perfectly under the blankets with him. Sehun tries not to think about it, but Jongin is warm and close and it's hard to drift off back to sleep when he's less than an arm's length away.

He falls asleep around two o'clock. He knows because that's the last thing he sees before his eyes finally close on him.

That night, he dreams that he's standing in the middle of a field, watching as snow slowly melted around him.

 

 

**Track 10.**

As soon as Sehun feels himself drifting back into consciousness - it's like floating back to the surface after lying flat on the floor of a seven foot deep pool, he thinks - he turns over. Almost instinctively.

It ends up a mistake.

He opens his eyes, still sticky from a long uninterrupted sleep, to a soundly sleeping Jongin, lashes fluttering against his cheeks and breath fanning softly against Sehun's chest as he stirs, curling his form around the younger and bringing up the blanket around them.

Sehun swallows. He fights the urge to scramble violently away from the bed.

But he reasons that that would wake Jongin up.

If Sehun's own loud, rapidly hastening heartbeat doesn't accomplish that instead.

Carefully, he pries Jongin's arm off him, allowing his finger to linger just a bit longer on his roommate's wrist. Just a little bit.

He slips out quietly from under the blanket. Somehow, that manages to drain him of what little energy he has at eight in the morning.

Sehun wants to hit his head against the wall.

He spots the CDs automatically. There's two, arranged neatly on top of each other by the digital clock. He feels almost guilty as he picks up one CD - it's like disturbing some sort of pristine peace that should remain untouched.

Jongin stirs as Sehun turns the CD on his hand.

There's a list of songs hastily - passionately - scrawled on the back, with a headline that reads; "Songs from Me to You." And, underneath, in smaller writing; _From your guardian angel._

Sehun's hands are shaking by the time he gathers enough of his composure to put the CD back where it was. Hesitantly, he takes the other one and, again, turns it over. This one says; T _his is for when my Sehun-ah is sad. For when he wants to cry and I won't be there to help him not drown in his tears. Don't be sad. I want my Sehun-ah to be happy. I want to see him smiling and laughing. You never smile or laugh, Sehun-ah. I wish you do. It looks beautiful. It sounds beautiful._

Sehun swallows.

He thinks that, maybe, if he wishes and hopes enough, it's almost as if Jongin's calling him beautiful. Maybe. But that would be silly.

He doesn't listen to the CDs. He can't. Not when Jongin's in the same house. Not when he's so near. So near that Sehun can just reach out and easily place a hand on his cheek. Maybe run his thumb across Jongin's bottom lip.

Maybe kiss him.

He decides it might be best to put the CDs away.

He tucks them inside his bedside drawer. It's empty, save for its two new occupants. Sehun closes it almost reluctantly, taking care not to be loud enough to wake Jongin up.

He thinks they'll remain untouched for while.

Guilt's violently coiling around his stomach by the time he goes to take a shower, leaving the door slightly ajar. Guilt for not listening to the CD's, guilt for not truly understanding what Jongin's trying to tell him, guilt for not smiling nor laughing enough around Jongin.

Guilt for not even having a proper gift for him.

After everything Jongin has done. Everything Jongin has given.

He lets the water run hot. Hot enough for the bathroom mirror to fog up. Hot enough to turn his skin pinkish red. It stings, but he doesn't mind. He gets used to it.

Sehun thinks he might be crying. He can't really be sure. There's warmth pooling in his eyes. Running down his cheeks alongside the hot water. If he closes his eyes tightly, he can almost pretend it's the same water running from the showerhead.

Maybe the water's an excuse for him to cry, too.

He wonders why he's crying. Confusion, maybe.

He's confused and he hates it.

He's confused and he's frustrated and all he can see when he closes his eyes is Jongin's smile and all he can hear is Jongin's laugh and he hates how that's more than enough to calm him down. He hates how much he's let Jongin in and he hates that he wants to let him in even more. He hates that he wants Jongin and he hates that Jongin doesn't mind - wouldn't mind - because all this time he's been waiting.

He's been waiting, maybe, for Sehun to realize that he'd been relying on Jongin all this time.

That maybe they've become friends the moment Sehun picked up that phone and sat down on the top landing to listen to him instead of hanging up on a stranger. That all this time, despite all his denials, all his attempts to avoid him, he'd just been scared.

Scared of losing Jongin. He's scared of getting closer, only to end up losing him.

Only for Jongin to realize he isn't worth it. That he isn't worth anything.

But Jongin wasn't - isn't - Lu Han. He isn't Minseok, either. He never was. And Sehun had been too scared to replay the same routine to even completely acknowledge the fact.

Jongin is everything Minseok and Lu Han never were. He's patient and he's kind and he's understanding and he's endlessly cheerful and endlessly bright and he's everything that - maybe, maybe, maybe, Sehun has needed all this time.

And it's taken him more than a mere month to realize that.

Sehun lets himself cry. He lets himself cry more than he's had in a while.

He stands there for a long time. He doesn't really think. He just stands still, hand around the tap.

When he gets out, 45 minutes later, he's made up his mind.

 

Sehun somehow finds it in him to make breakfast. The omelettes aren't quite whole by the time he coerces them out of the pan, and the pancakes a bit too thick and maybe a little burnt, but he knows Jongin wouldn't particularly mind. If he arranges them neatly enough, it looks perfectly nice on a tray.

It's 10:00 when he goes up the stairs, balancing the tray on arms that can barely support them. His biceps feel like jelly, and his skin still too warm from the shower, even an hour later.

He manages to wake Jongin up by the rather obnoxious bang the door makes when he kicks it open. His roommate scrambles in surprise to a sitting position, tufts of hair sticking in every direction, eyes doing a quick survey of the room - only to land on Sehun's tray-carrying form.

"Wow," is all he says. He's blinking rapidly. "For me?"

Sehun doesn't trust himself to say anything until he's placed the tray gingerly on the bed. He doesn't look at Jongin as he sits opposite him. He doesn't quite trust himself enough to make eye contact, either.

"The pancakes are a little burnt," he says instead. Weakly. "And the coffee isn't as good as yours." He risks a quick glance upwards.

Jongin's staring down at the food, eyes wide. "Wow," he repeats. "Wow. Just - wow, Sehun-ah." He pauses, mouth open. He picks up a fork distractedly. Takes a bite out of the omelette. "Wow," he says, in between chewing, "Really. Wow."

Sehun sighs. "Stop saying wow."

"But it's - it's wow." Jongin takes another bite. This time, he swallows before he continues; "I haven't really had much of an experience, but I suspected I would be great in bed. I just didn't expect you to respond this positively without me even doing anything particularly sexual."

Sehun fights the urge to mildly punch Jongin's leg. It's close enough for him not to have to move to do so. He sighs again instead. "Merry Christmas to you, too."

Jongin beams at that. "Did you see your gift?"

Sehun almost chokes. "Yes." He knows what he's going to ask next.

"Did you like it?"

There it is.

He decides to play with the sheets. "I haven't listened to it, really."

Jongin doesn't even bat an eyelash, he thinks. "Good," he says. Chirps, more like. "I didn't want you to."

Sehun frowns. "What?"

"Save it for a special occasion, you know?" Jongin's finished the omelette by now. "I didn't want you to be sad. So. You couldn't have listened to the second mixtape. And the first one was a bit embarrassing."

Sehun picks nervously at the cotton. "Why?"

Jongin swallows another mouthful of pancakes. "Because."

Sehun's frown turns deeper. "Because what?"

Jongin just shrugs. "Just because."

Sehun contemplates actually giving the CDs a listen.

But then Jongin's shaking his head. "Really, Sehun-ah. Don't listen to them just yet. Wait until I'm not in the same room as you are." He moves the coffee nearer to him. Stirs. "They're not going anywhere, those CDs. You'll - " He pauses, looks down at the coffee intently. Sehun wonders if he's already found something wrong with the coffee. Or if it's something else altogether. "We'll have time."

Sehun wonders if he's even talking about the CDs.

Jongin holds out his fork. "Have you eaten?"

He shakes his head, slowly.

Jongin doesn't wait a beat before cutting off a slice of the pancake and offering it to him. Sehun moves to grab the fork, but his roommate quickly manoeuvres it away. "No," he chides, "Say ah."

"I can do it myself," Sehun murmurs. The look Jongin's giving him burns onto his cheeks. He wonders if his eyes are still swollen and red. If Jongin has noticed. If he'll say anything about it.

But Jongin just shakes the fork. "It's Christmas. You cooked breakfast for me. Let me feed you."

Sehun doesn't exactly comprehend the logic, but he lets Jongin tug him closer to feed him.

He would have let Jongin do anything, he thinks.

 

They end up on the living room floor, sharing a large pack of potato chips that they have miraculously discovered in one of the cupboards. Jongin's crouched down by the TV, rooting through DVDs that Sehun didn't even know he owned.

"Should we watch something Christmas-y?" Jongin poked at the second shelf. "Or something completely un-Christmas-y?" He takes a DVD out experimentally, before popping it back in just as quickly. "If we want something Christmas-y, we can just turn on the TV and I'm sure Christmas movies would be on in, like, a hundred channels."

Sehun's hum is noncommittal. He's leaning on the armrest of the couch, watching his roommate animatedly browse through his apparently large set of movie choices.

"Something sad?"

Sehun yawns. "No. It's Christmas."

Jongin frowns, holding up a DVD. "Is _Nanny McPhee_ sad?"

The title stops Sehun mid-yawn. "That's the movie I rented out for you back when you were sick," he says. "We just never got around to watching it because we didn't have anything to watch it on."

"Oh, right." Jongin stands, _Nanny McPhee_ in one hand. "We're watching this, then."

Sehun blinks. "Why?"

"I asked you to tell me about it but you never did get around to telling me, so - " Jongin turns on the players and pushes the DVD in, as if he's done it a lot of times before. He stands as soon as he's done, and practically bounces over to the couch. "Here we go."

Sehun moves to give him space, but Jongin opts to sit on the floor right in front of him, leaning against his legs like it's no big deal.

Sehun swallows and leans back instead, pretending he can't feel the warmth radiating off Jongin's back through the thin fabric of his borrowed shirt.

It shouldn't be a big deal, he thinks.

But it is. It is because all he can think about is Jongin curled up against him and Jongin kissing his cheek and - and him wanting to kiss Jongin's lips. It's a big deal.

Jongin gets into the movie almost immediately, mouth perpetually half-open. Sehun has watched the movie enough times to know the script by heart and be able to involuntarily mouth along to it, and instead he spends most of the next hour watching his roommate's smiling face.

Watches him until that familiar knot in his stomach decides to make a comeback.

It's not something he's worried about, before. His idea of liking someone had been much simpler before.

Jongin occasionally looks up at him, whispering comments like; "There's so many of them." or pointing out things like; "That house is way too colorful to be real." Sehun answers to them with more noncommittal hums, but Jongin doesn't mind. As always.

At some point, Sehun decides it won't hurt to actually say the lines out loud alongside the characters. Jongin seems to find some secret joy in that, and presses his back even harder against Sehun's legs as he laughs his amusement away.

Maybe that's why Sehun continues doing it.

Jongin lets him join in for the rest of the movie. It's not until more than halfway through, near the end but not quite, that Jongin decides to jump in;

"Oh. I know this part."

Sehun hums as per custom. "Yeah?"

Jongin nods at the screen. "I think I've watched this part before. Only this part. I knew he gets married to the other girl. The one who loves him. And her dress changes."

"Her dress changes," Sehun agrees. He shrugs - even though the older can't see him. "It's a kids' movie. Happy ending."

"Not for everyone," Jongin whispers, voice dropping in volume all too suddenly. His back is pressing against Sehun's legs almost painfully now.

Sehun feels them going numb. "What do you mean?"

"Nanny McPhee's leaving."

"Well," Sehun pauses. He frowns. "You know what she said - "

"When you need me but do not want me," Jongin jumps in, all too solemn. "Then I must stay. When you want me but no longer need me, then I have to go." He pauses, too. "It's rather sad, really, but - "

"There it is," Sehun finishes quietly. "Jongin, are you sure you've never watched it before?"

"I don't think I have. Not the whole thing." Jongin's voice is awfully soft. Sehun has to lean forward to hear him. "Just this part, maybe."

Sehun sighs. "Maybe."

The conversation ends there, just in time for the actress playing Nanny McPhee to say them herself. The screen fades to black soon after, and they watch with mild post-sad-movie depression as the credits start rolling.

"Sehun-ah?"

He shifts a little. Jongin shifts with him. He sighs again. "Yes?"

Jongin suddenly stands. Moves to retrieve the DVD. "When did you get diagnosed with dysthymia?"

Him with the sudden questions.

Sehun crosses his legs. Tries to get blood circulating properly back to his feet again. "I - " His voice cracks involuntarily. He clears his throat. "The start of third year, we had these mandatory check-up's with the doctor, the dentist, and a shrink."

Jongin pops the DVD back into its case like they're still talking about the movie. "And?"

"And," Sehun tugs on the cushion beneath his arm, "I decided it wouldn't hurt to be honest about it - maybe they could tell me why I was so tired all the time and why I never feel like doing anything. And they diagnosed me with dysthymia." He sighs, uncrosses his legs. "I never saw a therapist for it, though. Never took pills or anything like that."

Jongin puts the DVD, case and all, back into the shelf it came from. "Why not?"

"It just - " Sehun breaks off. He swallows. "It just never felt necessary."

"Why not?" Jongin repeats, absently staring at the row of DVDs in front of him.

Sehun tugs harder at the cushion. "I think - " He swallows again. "I thought that they must have misdiagnosed me."

Jongin doesn't look at him. "Why is that?"

Why, why, why. Always the most important question.

Sehun doesn't look, either. "I was scared, I guess. Scared of being singled out. I thought there was no way I would be dysthymic if there were times I was genuinely happy."

Jongin looks at him then. He sees him turn in his peripheral vision. "I think you were scared because they put a scientific label onto something more real than just a 'disorder'." He raises four fingers to make air quotation marks. "And you were scared of being dismissed as just - as just 'sick'. And you were scared of being by yourself. But you wouldn't have been alone, Sehun-ah. Always tired, never feel like going out. Hopelessness, low self-esteem. Problems sleeping, problems with appetite. They're things teenagers deal with all the time." He stares down at his lap. "Maybe there were people at school always surrounded with people and always smiling and laughing but you never really know what a person's like when it's 4am and they're all alone in their room." His voice is really quiet. "Everyone has their insecurities. It's normal to have them. The trick is to find and surround yourself with people that make you feel like they don't matter."

"But," Sehun says, just as quietly, "In high school, I really thought that was the case."

Jongin smiles. A little sympathetic. "Did you? Did Lu Han and Minseok make you forget about them?"

Sehun closes his eyes. "No. Not really."

Jongin's smile turns almost rueful. "Do I - " His voice is uncharacteristically hoarse. "Do I make you - "

"Forget?" Sehun open his eyes. He swallows back a lump in his throat. "Not at first."

"At first?"

"At first," Sehun says, "I thought you were like Lu Han. When I saw you that first time with your sweaters and your turntable. But then - " He kind of wants to laugh. He does. It comes out a scoff. "But then you proved me wrong that same day. And I don't even know how." He's talking a lot today, he thinks. He keeps going anyway. "I don't think that anymore. Not really. You never treated me the way Lu Han did. You never argued with me over things that Lu Han would have. I was so stupid for thinking that."

"You're not," Jongin says, without missing a beat. Sehun does his laugh-scoff thing again. "Stop that."

"You said you wanted me to laugh more."

"Not like that." Jongin takes a moment to just stare at him. Sehun doesn't move his gaze from the ceiling. "Sehun-ah, what were you and Lu Han fighting about - the night of the incident?"

The question, Sehun thinks, would have come sooner or later. Better now than later. Better now that he's decided it was alright - it was alright to tell Jongin these things.

"During third year, we had a transfer student. Wu Yifan." Sehun laces his hands together. Maybe then they won't shake so much. "He was intimidating at first. He towered above me then. But he was good in school and he was a decent athlete and he was kind enough to most people. Everyone liked him." He exhales. It comes out rather shaky. "His locker happened to be right beside mine. And it also happened that, just like half of the student population, Lu Han liked him."

Jongin looks almost reluctant to say something. "Like-liked him?"

"Like-liked him," Sehun echoes. He still wants to laugh. "Who wouldn't have? Yifan had everything going for him."

Jongin looks at him. "You - " he says, hesitantly, "You liked him, too, didn't you?"

Sehun could only manage to shake his head. Out loud, he tells Jongin; "Maybe." He hadn't known what it meant, back then, to like someone. He's still not sure if he did.

Yi Fan and Jongin - they're different.

He starts picking at the cushion again. "Lu Han thought I did. And it's stupid, really. I could have just said that yes, maybe, I do, and tried to dodge his attempts at setting me up with him." No matter how immature and humiliating they might have been. "I could have said he had nothing to be jealous of. That it just so happens our lockers are right beside each other and we talked. Nothing more than coincidence."

"But you didn't." Jongin's picking at the carpet himself. "Did you?"

"No," Sehun murmurs. "I didn't. I panicked and I - I - " He's suddenly stammering, and he shuts his mouth quickly. He doesn't open them until he's sure he can talk again. "I knew Lu Han liked him. If I'd said yes, he would have done everything he could to embarrass me in front of Yifan. But he didn't buy it when I said no." He feels asphyxiated. "So I lied."

"You lied," Jongin seconds. "What did you tell him?"

Sehun closes his eyes tight for three seconds. When he opens them, everything's oddly blurry. "I told him - I told him Yifan and I were family friends. That I could help him with Yifan." He didn't even realize he'd clenched his fists. He loosens them with some difficulty. "And I told him there was a chance Yifan liked him. And he believed me. He believed me at first." He swallows. He thinks it might be embarrassment trying to claw his way out of his mouth. "Back then, I thought I was doing it for Lu Han. That I wanted to keep him happy. But now - now I think I just wanted him to be pleased with me. To know that I would support him. I was being selfish. I just didn't want him to think ill of me. And I didn't want him to do something that would humiliate me. So I lied." He accidentally bites his bottom lip and stops short. He can taste the blood. He doesn't move.

Jongin notices. He moves to get tissue from the coffee table. "When did Lu Han find out that you didn't really know Yifan?"

Sehun swallows again. Twice this time. "It was January when he found out. I couldn't stand it anymore and blurted it out to him. Told him Yifan and I were strangers to each other."

Jongin kneels beside him and gently dabs the tissue against his lip. It comes out slightly pink. "How did he react?"

"He yelled at me." Sehun would have tried to laugh again, but Jongin silences him with a reprimanding flick of the tissue in his hand. "He called me a liar and a hypocrite. And then he ignored me for the weeks that followed." He pushes back everything else. It sounds so overdramatic now, so unwarranted. It felt like too much even back then, but now, he feels ridiculous saying it out loud. But that was Lu Han. That was high school. 

Except somehow worse for that kind of person he'd been at the time.

"Ignored you?"

"Until - " His lip stings. He thinks he might have bitten it a bit too hard. " - until that night he asked to meet up."

Jongin sits down beside him instead. He's close. "You're not telling me everything, are you?"

Sehun focuses his gaze on Jongin's hands. He tries to think about them entwined with his fingers. On his cheeks. Clutching his arm. His own hands are still shaking. "He left notes in my locker for weeks after that. Post-its, mostly. Sometimes they were folded flyers with writing on the back."

Jongin's still. "What did they say?"

Sehun flinches instinctively, earning himself a look of concern. "Lu Han," he murmurs, "He wasn't really all too happy with what I did."

Jongin shuffles closer. Not too close. Not as close as he usually ends up being. But his warmth is as comforting as it always is.

_Kill yourself._

Stop, Sehun thinks.

He wishes he could lean back far enough onto the couch and suffocate himself.

_What kind of a fucking friend are you?_

His fingers have curled up into his hand. Back into clenched fists. Absently, he realizes that Jongin's tugging at them.

_Did you really think someone cared?_

 

His nails are digging right into his palms. His mouth still tastes like blood. Metallic, almost. Jongin's murmuring something.

His fingers look deathly pale against Jongin's skin. He watches as his roommate takes his hand, warily.

_Do us all a favor and kill yourself._

"Sehun-ah? I'm here."

Jongin's voice breaks through his haze, loud and clear.

"I'm okay," he manages. It comes out a half-croak. "I'm okay."

"They were - " Jongin has never sounded this tentative. It's like he's handling something too fragile to be seen, much less held. "They were bad, weren't they?"

Sehun wonders if this is one of those times he'd accidentally said something out loud. He hopes not. He doesn't want Jongin to look at him with pity.

"I'm okay," is all Sehun says. Almost a reflex.

Jongin just shakes his head. He doesn't really say anything.

Sehun stays quiet, too, having run out of I'm okay's left to say. He'd promised not to lie to Jongin.

They sit in silence for a long time.

Sehun isn't really capable of anything else but staring steadfastly at his lap. It doesn't do much to silence Lu Han's voice in his head, but it's enough to remind him Jongin's close.

That he's right there, all clenched fists and warmth.

He moves first, after a while. As always. He holds out a hand, pulls Sehun up from the couch.

"Come on."

 

They end up at the kitchen, with Sehun having been forced to sit on the island.

Jongin's busy around the coffeemaker, emptying it carefully into two mugs.

"Do you want eggnog?"

Sehun shakes his head no. He's buzzing with a subdued sort of energy. Like he's been freed of something. He thinks eggnog in coffee is the last thing he needs right now.

Jongin adds in a rather hefty amount anyway.

"Sehun-ah - "

"If you thank me," Sehun murmurs gravely, "I'm going to ignore you for seventeen days again."

Jongin's smile is a bit sheepish as he hands over one of the mugs. "What?"

"Don't thank me for telling you something you would have asked about sooner or later." Sehun sighs. He drums his fingers slightly on the table. "I - thank you for listening - "

"Stop. I'm just - " Jongin doesn't sit down. He stands by the counter, restlessly stirring his coffee. "I'm just surprised. I didn't think you'd actually tell me so soon."

Sehun doesn't look at him. "There's nothing left to know about me now, Jongin."

Jongin won't stop stirring. "Don't be ridiculous," he says, and there's a smile behind his voice, "There's still lots to know about you, Sehun-ah. You're like a book I'll keep reading for a long time. And rereading and rereading and rereading."

Sehun just shakes his head. He seems to be doing that a lot today.

"I'm not being silly, Sehun-ah." Jongin's considerably unruffled. "Don't give me that look. You're an interesting person. You're like a library. All sorts of different things to read. I don't think I'll ever tire of any of them."

Sehun looks down at his mug. "You know," he says, "You can ask me anything right now and I would say yes. I would tell you the truth." It's the truth. He'd made his decision this morning.

But Jongin's stirring stops short at that.

Sehun, feeling like he should, stops sipping his coffee. "What?"

Jongin's staring really intently at his mug. Just like he did this morning. "Really?"

"What?" Sehun feels reasonably lost. "Really what?"

"You know - " Jongin's voice cracks, and it drops several keys. Sehun looks up at him in mild concern. "You know how you said you'll get me what I want for Christmas?"

Sehun nods. He doesn't think there's anything he could say.

"I - " Jongin swallows. Sehun could see his Adam's apple move apprehensively. "Does the offer still stand?"

Sehun's hand tightens around the handle of his mug. It's almost instinctive. He wonders if it's his guilt coming back. "Of course." It comes out quiet. It's not on purpose. "Of course it does."

"Then - " Jongin's hands is wound too tight around his own mug. His knuckles are white. "Can I ask for something?"

Sehun fights the urge to frown. It's ever so troubling, seeing Jongin so unsure and so diffident. He swallows and nods.

"From tomorrow until New Year's Eve - " Jongin stops short. He's worrying his bottom lip.

Sehun's deeply unsettled. He swallows back a new lump in his throat. "What is it?"

"Can we pretend - " Jongin's gaze is trained on the ground. He pauses. Takes a deep breath. And then, in a voice far too unsteady to have belonged to him;

"From tomorrow until New Year's Eve, can we pretend we're in love?"

 


	2. side b

**Track 11.**

Sehun had said yes. Of course he had.

He hadn't spluttered. His eyes hadn't widened.

Jongin had been joking, he thinks. To lighten the mood, to break the tension. Bringing out his own selfishness to rival Sehun's, he tried to say, after he'd asked the question. He'd tried to take it back. 

But Sehun had just looked down at his mug, and murmured; "Okay." 

He doesn't know why he says it. Just that it feels, somehow, right.

His hands stopped shaking and his heartbeat eased back to regular rates.

And that was it.

Sehun wonders - no, he knows - there's more to it than that. But whether or not either he or Jongin is unwilling to bring the subject out in the open, or if his roommate simply didn't feel like being blatant about his thoughts and feelings for once, that much is unclear.

Sehun tells himself it's out of guilt. He tells himself that he owes it to Jongin to agree to the request. He tells himself the only reason he'd spent the past forty-eight hours tolerating his roommate's even more drastically increased fondness for skinship is because Jongin asked him nicely, and that considering how much Jongin has done, it hadn't been Sehun's place to refuse.

But he knows that's not it. And also knows he'd be stupid to think that, by the time New Years' comes around and they'd be done whatever it is they're doing, he'll come out of this unscathed.

And yet aside from the augmented frequency with which Jongin held his hand more tightly, Jongin clutching onto his arm more insistently, Jongin punching him more playfully, Jongin laying his head on his lap without much of a pretence, Jongin occasionally straddling the line between whiny and teasing, and Jongin shamelessly curling up against him at night - not much else has changed. They'd spent the past two days at home, with Jongin eagerly watching his way through Sehun's whole plethora of DVDs and unhealthily ravaging the rapidly diminishing stack of chips in the kitchen.

There's none of the awkwardness Sehun had been expecting. None of the tension.

It's like nothing had changed at all between them - like they've long since settled and adjusted to this routine long ago - and that's what unsettles Sehun the most.

Jongin fits with him perfectly, no matter what role the other has assumed for himself. Roommate, friend, whichever it is. Pretend lover, pretend boyfriend, recently.

It's like he'd been cut out specifically and carefully for every role he could ever possibly be allowed to play in Sehun's life.

"Have we watched this one?"

Jongin's shaking the DVD right in front of his face.

Sehun sighs. "Yes."

"You didn't even look!" It comes out as a whine - a newly developed technique of Jongin's, apparently. "Sehun-ah - "

"Jongin," he says, more flatly than he initially intended to, "You're waving it directly in my face."

Jongin suddenly stops moving altogether before the sentence is even finished, and he flops back down on the couch as if abruptly drained of all energy. His head conveniently falls on top of Sehun's thigh. "What the hell," he mutters into a cushion he'd stuffed over his face, "How is this a couple thing?"

Sehun stiffens for a second. He relaxes just as quickly. Just like he normally would, pretend couple or not. He frowns. "Watching movies together is a couple thing?"

Jongin nods dejectedly into his cushion.

"Aren't they - " Sehun chokes on the words. "Aren't couples supposed to be in love?"

 _Can we pretend to be in love?_ That was what he'd said.

Jongin doesn't seem to bat an eyelash. He nods again.

Well then. Sehun fights the urge to kick the cushion off. "How is watching movies supposed to show that?"

Jongin shakes his head this time. "Romance is stupid. Romantic relationships aren't necessary."

Sehun sighs. His default response by now. "Jongin."

"I'm just - " Jongin finally takes the cushion off. He throws it to the floor with little care. "I'm just really confused how this is supposed to work. Isn't it enough just to be with that person, no matter what label you put on the warmth they make you feel? Why is romance somehow more superior?"

 _Warmth they make you feel._ Sehun stretches a hand to pick up the cushion, trying not to jostle Jongin too much. "Really confused how what is supposed to work?"

"This whole 'love' thing."

Sehun hadn't really noticed it before. But now, he thinks, that every single move Jongin makes seems to lodge itself into every part of his vision and consciousness, even more than it already has before - now, his ears could pick up on the slight lilt to the older boy's tone every time he pronounced that particular word. He can't quite pinpoint if it's keenness, joy, relief. Or if it's the exact opposite. If it's bitterness, resentment.

Maybe even distaste.

If there's one thing these past couple of days that Sehun has truly gotten to explore about his relationship with Jongin, it's that it's all really more than just slightly unfair. More unfair than he'd initially thought. Unfair enough to leave a bad taste in his mouth.

Unfair how much Jongin seems to know about him, unfair how easily he could read him.

Unfair how on the other hand, Sehun himself can't even bring himself no matter how hard he tries to name anything about Jongin past his quirks, his favorite color, and his favorite food.

It's a fact that Sehun has acknowledged long ago, but this time, when he asks, it's less out of obligation to hold up his side of the bargain and more of an urge - a need - to know more about Jongin. Past the trivialities.

There's a painful constricting in his chest as he opens his mouth;

"Jongin?"

Jongin seems to have made himself comfortable in his lap. Almost on the verge of taking a nap right then and there. "Hm?"

Sehun nudges him a bit to a position less likely to lull him asleep. He clears his throat. "Can I ask something?"

"You sound nervous." There's a smile in Jongin's voice. But there always is. "What is it, Sehun-ah?"

Sehun suddenly freezes with the spotlight trained right on him. "I - " He splutters in the first go, not quite sure how to word his question. "Have you - " He pauses. Takes a deep breath. "Have you had your first love?"

There is silence for a long time.

That makes Sehun nervous. Jongin is never silent like this. Never in a situation like this. He doesn't look at him, though. Not even to check if he'd fallen asleep. No matter how much of a possibility that is.

"Jongin?" he whispers at the ceiling instead.

"Yes." Just as quickly, the reply comes. Short, succinct, but without infliction. "And no. I'm sorry, Sehun-ah, but I really don't know."

Sehun frowns a little.

Jongin seems to sense it, without looking at him. Of course he does. He rushes to explain; "No, it's not like I'm trying to hide something - trust me, I'm an open book - " _No, not really, you're not,_ Sehun thinks. But he bites it back. " - it's just that I really don't know what can be classified as a 'first love'. Have you had yours?"

Wu Yi Fan is the first thing to come to his mind. Sehun shakes his head. "Let's not talk about me."

This seems to take Jongin aback. He sits up. "What? But - "

Sehun rewards him by pushing him back down. It's unlike him to initiate contact, even for something like this, so Jongin complies obediently. "It's 'you' time today. Even for just ten seconds." One answer. That's all. _Please._

"Me time?" Jongin echoes. It's unnaturally quiet. "What's there to know?"

"Don't give me that," Sehun murmurs wearily. "That's what I want to know."

Jongin takes a few seconds to mull this over. "The more you know about a person, though," he says, even quieter, "The easier it is to get attached - no, the more you get attached. It's like naming something. It becomes more real to you. It takes a more distinct shape in your mind, in your heart, in your thoughts." He pauses. "Huh. Maybe that's why people label everything."

"Is there - " Sehun wishes he's better at this. Better with words, better with Jongin. He shifts uneasily. "Is there something wrong with that? With getting attached to you?"

Jongin seems to take this into consideration. But he gives Sehun nothing but silence.

"Sehun-ah?"

He sighs. "Jongin."

"What does it feel like to love someone?"

Sehun's quiet. It isn't as if there's something he could say. Not when Jongin doesn't sound like he would want an answer. Not when he feels as if there's something else there, just lingering, hovering hesitantly, wanting to be let out. And that's even more bothersome. Jongin's hardly ever hesitant.

"Sehun-ah."

He doesn't sigh this time. "Yes?"

"What does it feel like to be loved?"

Sehun can't help it. He tries not to, he really does. But his voice hitches mid-breath, and his hands go still. He hasn't even noticed he'd been drumming his fingers on top of his thigh, just beside Jongin's head of red hair. Itching to run a hand through the strands. In his lap, Jongin goes still as well, so uncharacteristically still.

It's like the question had caused their whole world - their small little cocoon, warm and peaceful and serene, just the two of them - to go immovably still.

But then Sehun swallows. And he inhales, slowly, steadily, air rushing into his lungs like they've been deprived of it for too long. Just like that, everything's moving once again.

Jongin is, too. Twisting rather uncomfortably in his lap.

"There's a quote," Sehun starts. "Before. That my mother - my mother told me. I think I was ten." Jongin stops squirming, once again going still so suddenly that his roommate should have been alarmed. He never talks about his childhood. Hardly ever mentions his mother if he could help it. Childhood and family were both sensitive issues, even between the two of them; it was a fact they've silently acknowledged over the past few months. And if he were asked, Sehun wouldn't be able to answer where the words were coming from now. "It's from Bob Marley, I think. He said that the person you love is someone that can turn your world around. You're comfortable with telling them things you'll never be able to tell anyone else. Maybe not even your closest friends. You can be yourself. There's a quiet calmness when they're around. Never make you feel like you're not good enough. There's never any need for continuous conversation. 'You find that being vulnerable is the only way to allow your heart to feel true pleasure that’s so real it scares you - '" He breaks off. He thinks he can almost hear his mother's voice saying the last line, word by word, at the same time he does. Suddenly, he's ten years old, curled up with his arms against his knees listening to his mother talk. Naive. Innocent. Untouched by notes in lockers and the pain of the aftermath of a marriage that fell apart too quietly - without tears, without a thunderous bang that would have, maybe, Sehun thinks sometimes, cushioned the blow.

Maybe.

"I don't know what romance feels like - but love, whichever form it's supposed to be in - I think it's - " He can feel Jongin's eyes on him. His breath almost hitches again once his own words settle in and completely register. His voice comes out as a croak as he finishes with; "I think it's something like that."

They're quiet after that, as they always tend to be. Always a comfortable silence surrounding them, when things get too sombre.

There's a quiet calmness when they're around.

Sehun's own voice sounds wonderfully distant in his head, despite the fact that he'd spoken just seconds ago.

Comfortable with them.

_You can be yourself._

He thinks, like this, feeling like none of what happened with Lu Han and his parents had ever occurred, with Jongin's head in his lap and the two of them supposed to be pretending to be in love - like this, he wouldn't be surprised if someone pointed out to him that he, in fact, has already fallen in love.

Maybe not romance for the movies, but he knows, staring down at Jongin, that this boy - with his smiles and his coffee and his warmth - is important to him. And that - that's the closest he's gotten to the idea, perhaps. 

"When did she tell you this again?" Jongin murmurs, successfully breaking the silence before Sehun could do - or think - something he might ultimately regret.

"I was ten," he repeats. "One of her friends had given her a touched up, beautifully framed copy of their - my parents' - wedding photo. As a gift for their tenth anniversary. I thought my parents looked so happy. And I wondered; how do you know when you're in love with someone?" He sounds silly, but he feels like a jar overflowing to the point you can't put the lid back on. "I was quite the helpless romantic as a child."

"Not helpless." Jongin almost smiles. Almost. Not quite. There are the last few remnants of the bitter distaste with which he'd pronounced the word love. "Never helpless. That much I know for sure." He stretches a hand out, reaching out towards the ceiling with fingers that are oddly pale under the fluorescent lights of the living room. "What was the picture like?"

The question takes him aback, but Sehun's used to it enough by now to recover quickly. "It was one of those pictures where the two of them are standing by the altar, holding hands. Smiles bright."

"What did you think of it?" Jongin's voice is a whisper. As if he's scared to ask.

Sehun considers this. "I thought my mother looked beautiful, even then."

"Even then?" Jongin echoes, voice too soft even in the silence.

Sehun shrugs. Lightly. A quick lift and release of one shoulder. "I didn't have much of a decent concept of beauty when I was a child. As far as I can remember, I wasn't really sure what beauty was, past the aesthetics. Past what it looks like on the outside. What it's supposed to be." He swallows. "But my mom - she was almost - glowing in that picture."

Jongin laughs, lightly. It's a welcome sound. "Glowing?"

Sehun hums faintly. He doesn't really want to keep talking. Whatever sudden resolve that had taken over when he opened his mouth to talk about his mother and the stupid Bob Marley quote has suddenly dissipated. "That's what people say. When you're in love."

"That you're glowing?"

He nods, slightly wearily. If he closes his eyes, he thinks, no matter how hard he tries, he won't be able to recall that memory as vividly as his words can provide. It's been a long time. The picture had long since been put away. "You're happier, I guess. When you love someone, and you're loved back." There's a few beats of silence, three words hanging precariously just at the tip of his tongue.

He looks at Jongin. He'd closed his eyes, as if it's absolutely necessary to do so in order to fully absorb Sehun's words. His hand is still stretched out. But oddly enough, he feels a sort of lightness in his chest. A lightness that he'd never quite noticed hasn't ever really been there before.

Before he met Jongin.

The person you love is someone that can turn your world around.

"Joie de vivre," he murmurs. Just under his breath.

So quiet that the wind snatches it away before Jongin could hear.

"Hm?" He opens his eyes. Blinks up at Sehun. "What was that?"

He shakes his head. He pokes at Jongin's shoulder, urges him to stand up. "Let's get out of here," he murmurs. He doesn't blame his roommate's surprised stare, eyes wide and blinking. He doesn't answer the silent question floating in mid-air between the two of them. Why are you suddenly acting like this?

Because he doesn't know why.

Sehun has not known a lot of things over the course of all nineteen years of his life - but this one, in particular, takes the cake for being the most frustrating.

Jongin doesn't wait for one. He swings both legs over the couch and manoeuvres himself into a standing position. With the same grace that always leaves Sehun semi-awestruck each time he allows himself to actually look.

He swallows tightly.

"Out of here?" It's a pleasant kind of surprise in Jongin's voice. "Where are we going?"

Sehun hasn't quite thought that one through. His eyes fall on the DVD Jongin had been showing to him. Now lying abandoned on the floor.

Watching movies together is a couple thing?

He sighs. It's a tired sound - but it's not too bad, he thinks. "How about a movie?"

 

There are two theatres near Sehun's neighbourhood - a big one, affectionately referred to as The Big Cinema, and a small one, not so affectionately referred to as nothing in particular.

He takes Jongin to the second one. Partly because there's lower chances of running into any familiar faces there. Partly because there's a higher possibility of him and Jongin getting a whole theatre to themselves.

Either way, Jongin is ecstatic to be in a new environment.

Almost like a child, Sehun thinks.

No, not almost.

Like a child.

Considering there isn't much to be so delighted about. The place is a rather modest red brick building tucked among an interesting array of bookstores, hair salons and Greek food restaurants. They only ever show three films at once, usually having been released a whole decade or so prior.

Jongin doesn't mind. "Oh, they're showing classics!" is his pleased declaration.

It's a quaint little place, Sehun is willing to admit.

Lu Han and Minseok had never been much of a fan of movies - and even in rare occasions when Sehun was dragged out with one of them, it would be to The Big Cinema. Loud. Expensive popcorn. Dim bathrooms in an attempt to make it seem classier.

Suffocating.

He blinks. Realizes that Jongin had gone to talk to the guy at the ticket booth.

He looks familiar.

He looks a little too familiar. Curious owlish eyes. Cropped dark hair tucked under a baseball cap.

His nametag reads Kyungsoo.

He'd gone to Sehun's high school. He'd been Minseok's friend before Lu Han had come along.

He knows.

"Sehun-ah, what are you up for?" Jongin's comfortably placed his arms on the counter, elbows down, hands cupping his face as he looks up at the list of three movies. "Horror, sci-fi - oh, Titanic! They're showing Titanic, Sehun-ah!"

Kyungsoo blinks at him. He blinks back.

"Sehun-ah!" There goes Jongin with his newly perfected whining.

Sehun nods. And with some difficulty, moves forward. Shuffles towards his roommate. And Kyungsoo. "Titanic is fine," he murmurs. His voice is level, but Jongin's eyebrow twitches. He almost chuckles. "It's kind of long, though."

"Oh." Jongin's face is perfectly blank for two seconds, before - "How long?"

"Two hours," Sehun answers - at the exact same time Kyungsoo does.

They look at each other. Blinks a couple more times.

Kyungsoo almost looks sheepish. "Hi, Sehun-ssi."

Sehun bows. "Kyungsoo-sunbae."

"How are you?"

"Good." He is. He really is. "You?"

"You weren't around for Lu Han's funeral."

Sehun tries not to flinch. Tries not to look uncomfortable. He's just surprised. Not uncomfortable. Do Kyungsoo, always straight to the point. "I was in the hospital."

Kyungsoo nods. Curt, but not rude. Never rude; that much Sehun remembers from high school. "How are you now?"

Jesus Christ. "Alive," he offers.

This gets both Kyungsoo and Jongin to crack smiles. "I'm glad to hear that, Sehun-ssi." And he sounds like he means it. "I wish I could have gone to visit you." There's something else there. In the quiet implications in his voice.

As if; _But everyone was spreading rumours about you. About what happened with Lu Han. And we weren't close enough for me to really know better. I'm sorry. I'm glad to see you back._

Kyungsoo's staring at him quite intently.

It's funny. How one look can mean so much if it's from the right person.

Sehun leaves it at that.

Jongin takes the silence to mean it would be alright to jump in with; "Two for Titanic, please!" He pauses. Gives the other board a quick glance. "Large popcorn, too. And a large Coke."

Kyungsoo takes it all in stride, without another word. By the two minute mark, Sehun and Jongin are armed with two movie tickets and a snack combo.

But then - "It's free."

Even Jongin is surprised. "What?"

"I'll give these to you for free."

Sehun almost drops the popcorn as he hands it over to Jongin. "Listen, Kyungsoo-sunbae, if this is about - "

"No. No, don't worry about that." He receives another smile. This one's apologetic. Not sympathetic. One that blatantly says _I'm sorry_. Not for his loss, not for what happened, but for Kyungsoo's own behalf.

It takes Sehun a few seconds to register what the apology is for.

_I was a witness. I saw what was happening. I knew Minseok, I knew you, I knew Lu Han. I knew what they were like. But I didn't do anything when I could have. I'm sorry._

Sehun cracks a teeny tiny smile of his own. Just a quick tugging at the edges of his lips. Almost involuntarily. It's okay. It's not forgiveness, but something close, he thinks. A thought for another time. "Thank you," he says, out loud.

Kyungsoo just shrugs. But his shoulders relax a bit. As if it's been bothering him. But Sehun tries not to think too much of it. He's learned not to do that with anyone else from high school.

He watches as he turns to Jongin. "Are you a friend of Sehun's?"

"He is. My roommate - " Sehun answers, at the same time that Jongin says, cutting him off;

"Boyfriend."

And then, after a few beats of silence, pointedly ignoring the fact that Sehun seems to have frozen over - he whispers, in a tone and voice so soft it's almost conspiratorial;

"We're in love."

Kyungsoo's staring, wide-eyed as ever, at Jongin. Sehun knows he is, too.

Jongin blinks innocently. But there's mischief there, shining ever so brightly.

Before Sehun knows it - before he's fully aware of it, he's laughing.

Not a giggle, not a chuckle. Full, uninhibited laughter.

He's doubled over slightly on the counter, clutching his stomach. He's laughing, loud and unrestrained and bordering on wheezing. Like a more extreme, even more unconstrained version of that time at the beach. He thinks there might be tears forming in the corners of his eyes, and that he's bound to faint soon if he doesn't get a proper inhale in. But he can't stop.

It's a like a balloon that's been untied; all that air comes rushing out. Doesn't stop until there's nothing left.

It feels good. The lightness in his chest is entirely there, blowing up in his chest and up his throat and out his mouth.

For what seems like forever, he hears nothing but the sound of his own laughter - and maybe Jongin's own. He's dissolved into silent, husky laughter now, finally running out of both energy and breath to continue.

He allows himself a few more chuckles, wiping at the small tears in his eyes.

Kyungsoo's looking at them both, but there's a smile on his lips. As if he'd been chuckling too.

Jongin's grinning.

It feels really good.

But then, grin melting into one of his easygoing smiles, Jongin's suddenly sheepishly apologizing to Kyungsoo, who waves him off good-naturedly, letting out airy chortles of his own.

Jongin catches him by the hand, balancing the popcorn and drink in one hand. After another round of thanks for the free snacks, he ushers the two of them off towards the theatres.

He's back to grinning by the time they take their seats.

Sehun had at least been right about getting a whole theatre to themselves. He makes a point of staring at the popcorn. "What is it?"

In his peripheral vision, he sees Jongin's smile widen. If that's possible. His voice is almost too quiet when he says, a bit breathlessly; "I really, really, really, really, really, really like your laugh, Sehun-ah."

Sehun swallows. He stares pointedly at the screen.

"Don't be ridiculous," he mutters, as per tradition.

But it doesn't stop him from sneaking a quick glance.

Jongin's grin is wide and bright and practically - 

Practically glowing.

Sehun feels his heart stop.

_I wasn't really sure what beauty was. What it's supposed to be._

Up until now, maybe.

This time, when he thinks of the word love, he thinks it's Jongin, faintly, that comes to mind first, before anyone else.

 

**Track 12.**

It's been two hours.

More than, even.

More than two hours since Jongin had dragged his younger roommate out of bed (after unceremoniously bouncing on top of him as an alternative to nudging him awake like a normal person would) and pushed him fully clothed into the shower.

More than two hours since Sehun came out of the shower fifteen minutes later, shocked by cold water into alertness, only to find clothes strewn around his room in an alarmingly seamless impersonation of a room that has just witnessed the deadly wrath of a tornado.

"Packing," Jongin had chirped, and then proceeded to ignore any and all further inquiries until he'd zipped up at least eleven outfits into a suitcase he'd managed to find from the most inner confines of Sehun's closet. And then, even more vaguely; "Since we're going."

More than two hours since Sehun had wearily sat down and made himself a sandwich for lunch, mildly surprised to find that he'd overslept past noon before he'd been woken up, and watched as Jongin ran around the house like it was his own, grabbing odd things here and there from the kitchen, the bathroom, Sehun's room and maybe even the garage - which he hadn't even been shown to prior. He'd thought it best not to ask, and it was with a gruffly acknowledged sinking sense of mixed dread and excitement that he stuffed the last lone piece of torn off lettuce into his mouth and watched as Jongin almost fell down the stairs in his haste.

He didn't, though.

Of course not.

More than two hours since Sehun was astonished into speechlessness to find a rather nondescript blue third generation Toyota waiting outside his house, and an hour since he watched, further rendered mute, as Jongin ran out of the house and smiled ever so winningly as he paid the guy that had driven the van to the Oh address in the first place, and then sent him off with a tip.

Ridiculous.

At least an hour since Jongin had ran back in, grabbed two packs of chips, tossed a sweater and a jacket at Sehun, and then pushed them out the door, into the car.

And off they went; Jongin popping gum rather earnestly as he pushed a CD into the player and backed out of the driveway like it was the most natural thing.

Sehun had wondered if this counted as another (successful) attempt at kidnapping.

_“Blackbird singing in the dead of night,_

_Take these broken wings and learn to fly._

_All your life,_

_You were only waiting for this moment to arise.”_

The Beatles. Of course. Jongin's solution each time he'd practically taken his roommate out against his will. He'd played it on the way to the beach, too.

Sehun doesn't know how he remembers. And he doesn't think he's quite interested in figuring it out at the moment.

They've been driving for at least an hour. It's half past five, but Jongin still hasn't shown signs of wanting to explain, much less actually stop the car and to reassure and remind the other that no, he really hasn't lost his mind.

As if on cue, however, Jongin accidentally lets a giggle slip out as they slow in front of a red light.

Sehun doesn't say anything. He lets his side-staring do all the exasperated scolding.

Jongin is singing along to The Replacements. He flashes a small smile - still bright, but there only fleetingly. Odd.

It dawns on Sehun as soon as he turns away. He turns back to him quickly, but half-heartedly.

"Stop the car."

"Why?" There's hesitancy there. Even odder.

"Just stop it."

Jongin laughs lightly, as if he isn't being completely transparent. Which he is. Sehun's almost proud of himself. "Sehun-ah, I can't just do that when we're in the middle of nowhere."

"Exactly why you should do it."

"Ah no - " He's silenced with what is possibly the most emotionally loaded stare he'd ever received from Sehun. He sighs. "Sehun-ah."

"Don't give me that. You're either stopping the car or I'm jumping out." Sehun lets his hand hover over his seatbelt for extra emphasis. "Stop the car, Jongin. I'm serious, you know that."

Jongin does. He complies, taking the first right and killing the engine before he'd even properly taken up the parking space. He looks over at Sehun appreciatively, looking almost impressed.

Sehun realizes there are perks involved with being a bit more obvious with emotion.

Especially when it's with Jongin.

"Where are we going?"

A hum. "It's a surprise."

Lie. The first ever lie he'd caught Jongin in, the file incident aside.

"You have no idea where we're going." It comes out drier than Sehun intended. "You owe me an explanation." 

"Okay, no - " Jongin protests, arms suddenly waving all around in wide exaggerated gestures. "I do know where we're going. Kind of. I have an idea."

"An idea," Sehun repeats, perpetually unamused. "What is this, some kind of post-graduation road trip?"

Jongin brightens up, as if he'd just heard the greatest thing. "Yes."

Sehun seriously contemplates walking out on him right then and there.

He must have moved slightly to actually do so, because Jongin catches him by the arm hastily, smile breaking the watt scale. "No, no, no, Sehun-ah, I'm sorry," he manages in between husky giggles, hand tightening around the younger's bicep. His palm feels extra warm today, even through three layers of winter clothing. "Alright, no, I have no idea where we're going, but that's the whole point."

But Sehun has stopped listening.

Jongin's close. The pick-up's cramped, and the air is suddenly almost heavy with too much heat from the cranked up vents. He realizes belatedly that both their cheeks must be flushed.

His eyes wander to Jongin's lips.

There's a song playing in the background that Sehun doesn't recognize.

_“You are what they call the human season,_

_You are all the alphabet in one,_

_You are every colour of confusion,_

_You are all the silence I’ve become.”_

He wants to kiss Jongin.

The urge is almost instinctive. No, not an urge so much as a need. His heart's beating really fast in its cage, and he thinks he must be shaking -

\- but it all comes down to the fact that all he wants, right now, more than anything, is to lean forward and press his lips against Jongin's.

The thought is scary. Sehun wills himself to calm down, think rationally.

He almost slaps himself with his own right hand.

" - wouldn't hurt to go on, like, an adventure of sorts, don't you think? Come on, Sehun-ah." It almost sounds like Jongin's pleading with him. That's enough to clear his head. Jongin withdraws his hand to unbuckle his own seatbelt. He doesn't seem to have noticed, thankfully. "Get lost in a new city. Lose yourself. And then find it. That kind of thing."

Or maybe he has. But he hasn't said anything.

"Think of this as a request from your boyfriend. I did say until New Year's, right? Two more days."

Right.

Sehun blinks. He blinks as many times as he could possibly blink per second.

_Right._

He nods. "An adventure." He sounds choked. He's almost scared the urge would come back. He stares down at his lap. "I can do that," he adds, voice barely above a murmur.

Jongin doesn't ask. He moves as if to take Sehun's hand, but then he recoils.

He hardly ever recoils. Practically never.

So maybe he does know.

He's being given space.

Sehun nods again, this time for himself. "Where do we go?"

Jongin beams, all early summer sunshine and warm autumn afternoons. "Well, it looks like you told me to stop right on time. This place looks nice. Let's go?"

Sehun looks out the window. There's a whole row of no-name shops stretched out in front of them - and, in the horizon, an almost opaque thin stretch of blue and green meeting the skyline. They're near the sea, he realizes. Jongin had been driving towards nowhere.

As far as they could possibly get, without being so geographically, from his hometown.

From everything.

He swallows. "Yeah. Let's go."

 

The employees at the seafood place take a liking to them.

With Jongin, it isn't a surprise. But for Sehun, ever so unused to so much attention being trained on him, it's a bit overwhelming. He barely manages to stutter out an okay, thank you when one of the kind older ladies in the staff comes over with an extra plate of oysters.

"I didn't know you liked seafood, Sehun-ah," Jongin says, raising an eyebrow at the new occupant of their table. There's already a whole plethora of various dishes between them - from the freshly caught fish on the grill on the centre of the table, the side dishes in mini little plates and bowls, to two huge lobsters on each of their sides. "Or maybe that's an understatement."

Sehun gestures to the crabs over at Jongin's side. "You're not one to talk."

Jongin has the grace to look sheepish as he downs half a glass of ginger ale in one gulp. He grimaces. "I don't even like ginger ale."

"Neither do I," Sehun admits. "Maybe you should get soda. Or water."

"Water," Jongin decides as a waiter, looking like he's in his late teens, comes to take it away. This one's a little sullen, with dark bags under his eyes. There's a sheen to them, glassy and somnolent, that looks almost too familiar.

Almost mirroring what, Sehun notes, was once his own.

He stares long and hard at the boy when he comes back with water. His nametag reads _Tao_. Sehun wouldn't say he looks sad. That isn't quite the word for it. He doesn't look depressed. He looks fine. Just tired. Easily misunderstood by anyone who probably didn't know him well. But there's a drained, weary look to what most likely would have been a very cheerful boy that Sehun picks up on.

He wonders if he has the right to feel like he knows the boy well.

"Thank you," he makes sure to say.

The waiter - Tao - nods and walks away with slight steps.

As if a part of a routine he doesn't want to be following anymore.

Again, familiar.

Sehun almost gulps down a whole glass of ginger ale, wondering if he's the only one who'd noticed.

Jongin glances at him semi-confusedly.

He wonders if that had been what he'd seemed like to Jongin back in September, when they first met. What had he sounded like on the phone? How had he looked then? Did he have the same weak and worn out air to him that the waiter had?

How does he look to Jongin now?

Jongin's staring at the oysters. "Hey, do you think - "

"Jongin."

He looks up in mild surprise. Sehun doesn't blame him. He's never one to interrupt Jongin like this. "Yeah?"

"What was your first impression of me?"

The surprise grows almost imperceptibly, but then it's gone, and Jongin's normal expression is back as he helps himself to oysters. "Like - " He pauses, weighing his words. He finishes three oysters, and Sehun waits, uncharacteristically patient. Jongin sips water contemplatively. When he puts it back down, he looks up with a smile. Slight.

"Like a child that's been forced to grow up too fast," is what he says. Quietly.

Sehun thinks of Tao. He swallows, with slight difficulty. He wants to drink, but there's none left of his ginger ale. His voice is placidly hoarse as he says; "And now?"

Jongin raises an eyebrow. Frowns.

He looks down at the oysters. "Now?"

Sehun doesn't realize he's waiting a bit too apprehensively for an answer until it comes.

"You're just my Sehun-ah now. And frankly, I don't think I'd want it any other way."

This is one of those times, Sehun thinks, that he truly envies Jongin's forthright charm and candor. Because Sehun hates how the answer - simple, soft, straightforward - is enough to make him feel such -

\- such unanticipated joy.

He smiles.

It's shy, and unpracticed, but he smiles.

He gives Jongin a smile.

One that Jongin deserves three times over. Tenfold. A hundredfold.

One that must be long overdue.

Jongin smiles back easily. As if it's a normal thing. As if he'd just been patiently waiting.

And maybe he has. As he has always been.

And then it's over. Just like that. Quick as a flash. Still not easy for Sehun, he thinks, but not unpleasant.

Definitely not unpleasant, he decides, as Jongin's smile lasts a bit longer.

He doesn't need to hear him say anything to know what he's thinking.

_I really, really, really like your smile. You should smile more._

And Sehun knows it goes without saying that his response would be; _Don't be ridiculous_.

He almost laughs.

But then Jongin's pushing over an empty plate, a bit too casually. "Sehun-ah, I kind of finished the oysters by myself."

Sehun allows himself a few chuckles.

Jongin beams at him.

 

By the time they get out of the restaurant, it's eight o'clock.

Sehun had expected it to be dark, but he stops abruptly in his tracks as soon as he steps out. Jongin practically slams onto his back.

"Sehun-ah - "

Jongin spots it quickly. It's hard to miss with Sehun staring upwards almost dazedly.

The sky is dotted by stars, little shining gems forming one bright collective blanket of light above them.

He'd never seen a starry sky before - it was lucky to get a couple dots in the sky at night - and it is with a certain newfound fascination, Sehun notes in himself, that he stares, almost unblinking.

He thinks Jongin must be smiling at him.

"You know, Sehun-ah, I was thinking about getting a room in one of the nice inns across the street," Jongin says. There's airy amusement in his tone. "But we could camp out in the trailer park nearby."

Sehun snaps out of his trance to peer at him. "What do you mean?"

Jongin shrugs. "We drove a mini-van here. And I brought sleeping bags."

Sehun blinks, confused. "As in - "

"As in sleep in the back in sleeping bags under the stars, yeah." Jongin beams. He seems to be doing that a lot today. He looks incredibly proud of himself. It's hard to say no like that.

"It would be cold, Jongin."

"We'll turn the heat on," Jongin assures him, all of a sudden excited. The wide exaggerated movements make a comeback. "And we'll be inside the car. There's one of those mini square glass roofs with a sliding flap. Didn't you see?"

Truthfully, no. Sehun had been too lost this morning to even bother actually taking in his surroundings.

He stares at Jongin. Who still doesn't look like he's about to take no for an answer.

Sehun sighs. It doesn't seem all that bad of an idea, admittedly.

"Okay."

 

It isn't a bad idea at all, Sehun thinks. It isn't a bad idea at all when he's curled up in a huge sleeping bag, staring up through a considerably sized rectangular piece of glass at a sky seemed to have been cropped straight out of a Van Gogh.

Jongin's still sitting on top of his sleeping bag beside him, humming yet another song under his breath.

_“Hold me close, I feel it coming,_

_Far away and out of sight,_

_Hold me close,_

_I know it’s coming . . . changes to our lives."_

Sehun decides to close his eyes for a little while.

This might possibly be the most peaceful he's felt in a long time, he thinks.

This really isn't a bad idea in any way whatsoever.

But then Jongin's suddenly sliding into his own sleeping bag, all warmth and comfort even in a van out in cold winter air. Sehun's eyes flutter back open and he stares drowsily at Jongin.

"Jongin?"

"Hm?"

He sighs, the sound whistling through his teeth. He stares at the sky. The stars look like they're twinkling. "I know I've told you this before, but - thank you."

Jongin looks slightly caught off guard, but he recovers within seconds. He nods, smile rivaling the stars in brightness. "I know I've told you this before, too, but," he pauses, shrugs, "You've always been welcome." And Sehun isn't completely looking at him, but he can tell he's grinning as he says; "So don't be ridiculous."

One edge of Sehun's mouth twitches up at that. He nods back.

"Good night, Sehun-ah."

"Good night."

He thinks he drifts off after that, because that's all he remembers -

\- until he's woken up by the distant sound of a dog barking. His first instinct is to panic, trying to gather his surroundings, and he sits up hastily. But then Jongin's habitual sleepy breathing easily reaches his ears, and he calms down, heart easing back to regular speed.

With a quick peek at the wristwatch on his roommate, he confirms the time to be 2:37am.

Sehun sighs, and flops back down, face-to-face with Jongin.

He's breathing in his usual regular five-second pattern, strands of hair flying slightly off his forehead each time he exhales. Jongin, he notes, is always curled up when he's asleep - whether it is around a pillow, into himself, and most recently, around Sehun. The sleeping bag is curled up around him this time, snug and comfortable.

One hand is stretched out of the bag, as if reaching out for something.

Sehun wonders if he'd been reaching out for him.

He looks at Jongin. At his eyelashes, at the corner of his mouth, his lips.

This time, when the same feeling returns from earlier, he doesn't suppress it.

Sehun sits up, cautiously.

_Don't overthink it._

He moves carefully. Careful not to jostle anything.

 _Don't_ worry _about falling in love._

Jongin had said that. It feels so long ago.

_Can we pretend we're in love?_

Sehun swallows. He leans forward.

"What should I do, Jongin?" he murmurs, voice too quiet even to his own ears.

Slowly, gently, he moves.

He kisses Jongin's cheek.

It's chaste. Soft. Over in a second.

And yet.

Sehun withdraws, pressing his lips together.

_I'm Jongin. Kim Jongin. Your roommate._

"What should I do?" he repeats, even softer this time.

 _I think I love you, Kim Jongin_. 

 

 

**Track 13.**

Sehun wakes up disoriented.

He blinks groggily, twisting his upper body and pulling the blankets higher over his chest -

He stops. He sits up, vaguely alarmed.

"Blankets," he mutters, out loud, hands frantically running over the white sheets.

He distinctly remembers falling asleep in a car. Beside Jongin.

He blinks a few more times, grogginess fading fast as he takes in his surroundings - beige walls, cream curtains, white sheets, an open door leading to a balcony and -

Jongin's standing by the railing, elbows balanced on top of it, in only a sweater and a thick muffler around his neck despite the negative degree weather. He's oddly still, staring intently at something in the distance, focus completely on whatever it is that he doesn't seem to notice the rustling bed sheets as Sehun adjusts his body in a more comfortable position.

Jongin's face is half visible, half hidden from his view, but Sehun easily notices his expression. Eyes half lidded, mouth in a tight, flat line. Eyebrows creased. Smile completely and so blatantly absent that it strikes Sehun so suddenly that he's seen little to practically none of Jongin like this.

Jongin is always, always, always smiling, whether it's a worried half-smile or a delighted beaming grin, no matter the situation. He smiles while eating, smiles when he's studying, smiles while he's driving, smiles when he thinks Sehun isn't looking. He even smiles while he's sleeping.

But Jongin is doing the exact opposite right now. He looks like a painting like this - unmoving, stoic and silent. So deep in thought and so distracted by whatever it is he looks like he's worrying himself sick over that it almost looks like he's torn between yelling and crying.

Jongin never looks like that.

_I'm not sad._

_Yes, you are._

Sehun wonders if Jongin has hidden this expression away from him all this time, and he has never really, completely, actually noticed.

_Why do you look sad, Jongin?_

It leaves something hollow and aching in his chest.

Sehun isn't sure if he should get up or not - disturb Jongin from whatever deep trance he's in - but the decision is made for him as he knocks the telephone off the bedside table.

It falls to the floor with a crash that resounds off the walls of the dead silent room.

Jongin jumps - yet again something Sehun has rarely ever seen - and spins around looking like he's been caught in the middle of a hideous crime. He looks like he would have stammered, but he swallows visibly and opts to raise an eyebrow in question.

"Sorry," is as close to an explanation, hangdog, as Sehun is capable of managing.

"I - " Jongin blinks, and just like that his expression relaxes. The worried creases disappear and the easy smile comes back. It's genuine, but Sehun almost resents him for it. "Good morning."

Sehun feels oddly parched. And warm. Sweltering hot, almost. He hasn't even noticed he's sweating until Jongin closes the door behind him as he steps inside, the cold breeze shutting down all at once. "Morning."

"I kind of did something," Jongin says, conspiratorially, as he tucks his legs underneath him by the foot of the bed. "And I'm really sorry."

Sehun frowns. "What?"

"I - " Jongin's serious expression has given way to one that's as equally sombrely sheepish. "I woke up this morning and you were shivering in your sleep. So I took you to the nearest inn. With actual heat."

Sehun thinks he must look horrified. He didn't even feel anything. "Carried me all the way up here?"

Jongin shrugs, like it's no big deal. He breaks eye contact, though. "You have a cold, Sehun-ah. And a fever. Do you not notice?"

Instinctively, Sehun's hand flies up to his forehead. He's warm. Warmer than Jongin usually is. He sighs. "Don't bother trying to find blame in yourself for this," he shoots at his roommate, before the other even opens his mouth. He flops back down on the bed with a groan. "We were both stupid. Sleeping outside in the cold, what were we thinking?"

There's a pause. And then Jongin lets out something that sounds suspiciously like a semi-giggle.

Sehun sighs into his pillow. "What is it?"

The next giggle comes out a mix of a snort and a chuckle. "We."

"Huh?"

"You said we," Jongin manages in between giggles. "Us. Like partners-in-crime."

Sehun rolls over to look at him. This scene is cozy, he thinks. Almost like they're back in the dorms, rolling over beds mid-conversation. It's comfortable and oddly.. domestic, almost.

He rolls right back over, suddenly unable to meet Jongin's eyes.

"Shut up," he mutters into the pillow. Jongin chuckles louder.

"You know," he says, after he's calmed down reasonably and has resorted to flicking the lump on the blankets that is the back of Sehun's knees, "I used to daydream about playing hide and seek with someone. Kick the can, all that stuff."

Sehun fights himself from stiffening. Jongin would hate that. "Daydream?"

"Yeah. Just daydreams." The answer comes quickly. "My brother was too caught up with his apparent need to do well in school."

"But - " Sehun isn't sure if he's going the right direction. "What about friends from school?"

"I guess you could say I - I was homeschooled during my elementary and middle school years," Jongin replies, softly. Simply stating a fact. "So no school friends then."

"But - " Sehun repeats. "You don't act like you were homeschooled."

"What do you mean?"

"Like - " He breaks off, frowns for both Jongin's sake and his. "You're so.. social." He hopes Jongin doesn't take that to be a bad thing.

He doesn't. "Mostly because I was eager, I guess. Eager to talk to anyone who will listen, eager to be friends with whoever is available."

 _Eager to make up for the childhood I didn't get to have_ , is the underlying addition.

Jongin hums, shifts until he's lying down on his stomach. "My brother used to joke - well, his idea of a joke at least - that my ghost probably won't be able to rest until I've befriended someone. Or, like, saved someone's life. Made a connection or something."

He doesn't sound like he wants an answer, much less expecting one. Sehun doesn't say anything for a while.

But then Jongin suddenly stands, and whatever opportunity he might have had to say something vanishes into thin air.

Sehun watches him stretch, and is hit with the sudden realization that he really doesn't want him to go.

"Where are you going?"

Jongin doesn't even glance at him, as if the answer's obvious. "Getting you medicine."

Sehun gets up, too. "I'm coming with you."

"What?" Jongin looks scandalized. "You're sick. When I was sick, you practically chained me to the bed."

"I did no such thing," Sehun's quick to refute. "And no, you're not leaving me here like some sort of helpless patient. It's only a cold."

"And a fever."

They look at each other for a few beats.

Jongin sighs. "You're so difficult when you're actually like this."

Sehun rolls his eyes as he shrugs on his jacket. "Yeah, well, welcome to my world."

 

The drugstore's a couple blocks away from the inn. It's unsurprisingly small considering the area in which it's located, and the two of them have to walk in a single file in between the shelves.

Jongin is thoughtful. "What did you get when I was sick?"

Sehun shrugs. "We can get over-the-counter meds for this kind of thing. It's just a cold - "

"And a fever," Jongin interjects.

Sehun ignores him. "A small pack of tablets or capsules should do."

"We don't need a prescription, do we?"

"No," Sehun says - a bit too quickly to escape Jongin's suspicion.

"You know quite a bit about this, Sehun-ah."

He clears his throat, tries to wave it off. "It's just medicine, Jongin. Basic knowledge."

Jongin's staring at him intently. He hears him sigh after a couple minutes. "Well."

Sehun doesn't bother turn his head "Well, what?"

"Well, nothing."

Sehun gives him his best withering look. "Do you want to go buy it, or should I?" It's a question, but it comes out sounding more like he's pleading with Jongin to _please go buy it._

Jongin grins at him. "I'll go, since you seem so willing."

Sehun wants to deck him.

He watches Jongin innocently stroll over to the counter, a complete people person. Easy smile, charming eye gleam. Sehun rolls his eyes.

He turns to start wandering aimlessly through the aisles -

\- and accidentally walks right into a head full of shockingly dark, dark, dark hair.

He vaguely registers the half-hearted apology before he hears the plastic bag drop first, and then the sound of clattering as the contents fall to the ground one by one. He hears someone curse in a slightly accented, faintly familiar tenor - and suddenly, he's being roughly pushed aside in the person's haste to retrieve their belongings.

Sehun's never been good with people, much less when it comes to complaining when he's being wronged, but somehow, he is compelled to catch the stranger by the arm. "Stop, stop, wait," he manages, and it surprisingly doesn't come out a stammer. "Let me help, what are you doing - "

"I'm fine." The stranger pauses briefly to stare at him - an insubordinate hardening in his gaze that's not quite a glare but not quite pleasantly otherwise, either.

But for a second, somehow, Sehun sees something else there. A boy pleading with him to leave.

It's a faintly familiar face to match to a faintly familiar voice, and it takes Sehun a while to place it. "Tao," he finally declares, a triumphant whisper under his breath. "Right?"

The look of surprise on the boy's face is enough of an answer. Just as quickly, it melts into a look of anxiousness - almost fear. "It's none of your business. Do I know you?" It's almost impressive how flawlessly he keeps up his insolent tone, even despite how blatantly his eyes give it away.

It's Sehun's turn to feel nervous. Any other day and he would be sweating frantically by now, unsure how to respond to a stranger he'd initiated a conversation with. "No, no, you work at the restaurant, right?" He manages weakly. "I, uh... " He trails off, however, as his gaze travels towards the things scattered on the floor.

Packets of sleeping pills. Tons of them. Each six by six, cluttering the ground like fallen paper clips. There's a moment of silence, until Tao regains his composure and hastily returns to trying to pick up his purchases all at once.

Sehun wants to move, he really does - but he's stunned into stillness, speechlessness, staring flat-mouthed at the mess on the tiled floor. The feeling of déjà vu hits him at full force, and he feels almost dizzy as he gets to his feet, clammy hands grasping at the shelves for support.

Tao doesn't look much more stable than he is - he seems to be on the verge of tears as he finally gathers all the packets, shoving them into the plastic bag as he stands up, almost frantic.

Sehun catches him by the arm before he even realizes what he's doing.

He hopes he's simply making assumptions.

For a second, Tao almost looks like he is about to violently shrug him off; but he crumples at contact, and very, very, very briefly, he looks so frail and small and vulnerable that Sehun knows that he's right.

"Give me the bag," is all he can say, quiet and grave.

Tao's chewing on his bottom lip, meeting his eyes almost defiantly. Sehun can see hints of blood from biting too hard. It's amazing - how one can be so helpless and yet so far from compliant, almost insolent in his stubbornness, all at once. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No," Sehun responds tartly. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You're a stranger to me, I'm a stranger to you." Tao tugs at the hand Sehun has around his arm. "This is none of your business. Let me go."

Sehun, against his better judgement, tightens his grip on Tao's arm. "You think I don't know what you're about to do? I've been there. I've tried."

"Well," Tao hisses back, almost snottily, "Not very successful, was it?"

Sehun is surprised by the voice in his head that informs him that deep down, he is glad exactly because it wasn't successful.

But he's losing his patience, too. He doesn't understand why he's _so_ mad, why it's suddenly so difficult to keep his temper under control. The last time it had flared was during the fight with Jongin, all those months ago.

He grits his teeth, anyway. "Cut the attitude, will you?"

Tao just glares at him.

Too abruptly, Sehun releases him, and watches as he stumbles back a few steps and against the shelves. "Don't give me attitude," he mutters, and it sounds less angry and more beseeching. "I know it's hard for you right now - that you might be overwhelmed by so many things happening all at once, and that there are nights when you feel like you really don't want to wake up the next morning and that you're just so done with the world and you don't want to keep doing this anymore - but it will get better."

Tao scoffs, but there's an uncertain light in his eyes now, and his grip has loosened around the plastic bag. If only just a little.

Sehun practically growls in frustration at him. "Everyone has those days when they feel like ending it all is the only option. No one our age has life completely figured out - and that's okay. It's okay to be a mess. You'll figure it out. It won't be perfect, maybe, but you'll be happy. And that's what's most important of all. That's the joy of living." He hadn't been talking particularly fast, but he finds himself out of breath as he stops, eyes narrowed at the stranger in front of him. "Progress looks different on everyone. Do you understand that?"

There's anger blooming in his chest, and he feels like he's been lit ablaze from the inside - but he blinks and suddenly it's not Tao there in front of him, but himself. Himself a year, two years, three years ago. Helpless, waiting for a rescuer to come save him. And he realizes it, abruptly - as sudden as sour juice filling your mouth when you bite into a green apple - that it's his younger self that he's angry at; his younger self that he wants to tell all these things to. That if he had the chance to write a letter to the person he was a year before, it would contain the exact same things he'd said mere seconds ago.

He swallows painfully.

"Se - what happened?"

Jongin, as always, comes out of nowhere, popping behind them, purchases in hand.

Sehun sighs, and the anger, the frustration, the shadows of grief from the past, comes out with that one exhale. "Nothing, really," he says, and it comes out surprisingly even. He feels deflated, like everything that had been filling him up to the brim is suddenly gone, just like that, in one swoop of air.

Jongin's looking at Tao. "Are you sure? I - "

"Yeah." He swallows again. And this time, he makes sure to look Tao in the eye as well. "I - I was just helping him pick up things he doesn't need."

Tao bites his lip harder at that, but Sehun turns away. He spares him one last look over his shoulder, one last importunate look, before he tugs at the bag in Jongin's hand and leads both himself and his roommate away.

Later, going up the stairs to their motel room, when Jongin asks about what happened, Sehun shakes his head.

 

Sehun takes two pills, and falls asleep within minutes. It's a familiar feeling, but what comes as a surprise is the dream.

When he wakes up from his medicine-induced nap, he finds Jongin sitting at the foot of the bed, eyes trained on the news headlines on the TV in front of him. He doesn't look like he's really watching.

He nudges him with one socked foot. "Jongin."

His roommate doesn't show signs of being startled whatsoever. "Hm?"

"I dreamt of you."

Jongin turns the TV off. The room is plunged into complete darkness. "Just me?" His voice sounds a little slurred to Sehun's groggy hearing.

Sehun sits up. "No. Of us."

Jongin looks confused. "And?"

"We were children," Sehun says, completely serious. "And - " He breaks off. Takes a closer look at Jongin. Even in the dark, his cheeks are obviously flushed, and his eyes a little watery. "Are you drunk?"

"What?" Jongin blinks. He looks down at himself. "I - maybe?"

Sehun is incredulous. "How the hell - "

"Okay, no, I thought it was soda." Jongin held his hands up. "I didn't want to touch the water bottle because that was for you - "

Sehun fights the urge to groan. He isn't entirely successful.

" - so I checked the mini fridge and there were, like, five cans. I opened one and it smelled and tasted like soda and completely non-alcoholic so I was like okay, cool." Jongin sighs. "I guess not. Not cool."

"Jongin, I really don't know how you pull off stuff like this."

"I - " Jongin flashes him a grin. "It's a gift, I guess."

"It is," Sehun mutters.

"I'm not too drunk, though. Just a little woozy."

Sehun lets his head fall back down on top of his pillow. "You're not going to get anywhere watching TV. Like that's going to get you sober."

Jongin, surprisingly, complies. He wiggles under the blankets, right beside Sehun. He's even warmer now, and it doesn't help that Sehun's still feeling a bit clammy from his fever.

"How are you feeling?" Jongin whispers.

"Okay," Sehun murmurs.

"Are you going to tell me about your dream now?"

"Oh, yeah, I - " Sehun pauses, and isn't surprised to find that he's forgotten a good half of it. "Yeah, no, I don't really remember."

Jongin nudges him. "Oh, come on, at least the gist of it."

"I - " Sehun frowns at the ceiling. "We were children. And - I don't know - we were just children. Somehow, I knew it was you I was playing with. And we were just - playing hide and seek, I think. Somewhere with lots of grass. And a couple trees."

"Is that it?"

"I think so."

Jongin hums. It's pensive.

"What is it?"

"Could it be because of what I said earlier? About me daydreaming about that sort of thing when I was younger?"

Sehun hums, too. "Maybe."

"You know, it would have been nice," Jongin says, without preamble. "If we would have been friends when we were children. Maybe we would have turned out differently. If our lives have been intertwined right from the start."

Sehun would have agreed, would have nodded, said "Yeah." or maybe even smiled - but it almost feels like Jongin is saying; But it's not. It's not how fate is supposed to work, for us.

He hopes he's imagining it.

They lapse into silence, as they always do.

Sehun's about to close his eyes again, however, when he says;

"You're my first real friend."

It surprises them both, and Sehun fights the urge to slap a hand over his mouth. He plays it off like he meant to say it, turning over so his back is facing Jongin. Maybe this way his roommate won't be able to tell it's completely a fluke and he'd only blurted it out.

"And I probably wouldn't have even realized the difference if it weren't for you - you know?" Sehun almost shudders at his own words. He's not really making sense to himself. "I know we can't really play hide and seek or kick the can like you wanted when you were a kid but - for everything else, I'm not so fragile anymore as to not be able to take it when you're not being gentle with me, Jongin. I can listen, too. It's a two-way friendship." I want it to be. I'm trying. "I know we got off to kind of a rocky start because of me, but though this is getting a little cliche, I'm thankful, Jongin. For you giving me what I needed, too."

There. He's said it.

Jongin's quiet. For a long time. As per tradition.

Sehun lets him be. He doesn't turn back.

Until he hears the sniffling.

Sehun sits up in panic. His eyes have adjusted to the dark, and he sees Jongin curled up on the other side of the bed, blanket pulled up right below his nose. His eyes are red, and he looks like he's trying really, really, really hard to fight the tears. He's semi successful, and he lets it all out in the form of sniffles instead.

"Sehun-ah." It sounds like a croak.

He sighs. He doesn't say that his heart feels like it's both about to explode with relief, but at the same time it feels like it's been shattered into unretrievable pieces. "Why are you crying? Are you a drunk crier?"

"I'm not."

Stubborn. As always. "Yes, you are."

"It's because Sehun-ah's being ridiculous."

Sehun frowns. "How am I - "

Jongin groans. "God, you're so frustrating sometimes. So slow and just - " He breaks off abruptly with yet another groan. "What did you tell me just now?"

"What?"

"Oh Sehun, what did you say to me just now?"

Sehun's lost. "You're my first real friend...?"

"Exactly." Jongin's ears have gone a little pink. Even in the dark, it's noticeable. "You haven't had a real friend because you wouldn't let anyone in. Because you were scared. I'm your first real friend because you let me in - because somehow you saw something in me worth opening up to."

Sehun's really frustrated now, too. "That's not - "

"Have you ever thought of what it's like from my perspective?" Jongin sits up and narrows his eyes at his roommate through the last of his unshed tears. "Have you ever considered that all this time I've been doing this not just for your sake but mine too? I've never had a connection with anyone, Sehun. Not a true friendship or a true bond or anything like that, not even with my own brother - but the fact that you shared with me all these things, the fact that you trust me and consider me a friend - it's all really more than I can ever ask for, you little brat."

The dead silence that follows is almost suffocating between the two of them.

Sehun stares at him. He's torn between crying and laughing, too. "You called me Sehun."

Jongin rolls his eyes. But it's a good-natured gesture. "I also called you a little brat." He smiles, still slightly tearful. It's so uncharacteristic that Sehun can't help but wonder if this would have happened had Jongin not gotten himself tipsy-drunk. "Affectionate boyfriend, aren't I?"

_Boyfriend._

It feels too natural - too unrehearsed. He'd almost forgotten.

But Sehun, to his credit, manages a smile back.

That seems to sober Jongin up a bit, and he goes back under the blankets first, eyes fluttering closed drowsily. When Sehun doesn't show signs of talking, however, he says, softly, sleepily; "It's the 31st tomorrow. We're going back to the dorm."

He lets his words hang in the air.

Sehun stays sitting for a long time, waiting until Jongin's breathing has eased enough to indicate he's asleep before he joins him again under the blankets.

It's the 31st.

It's New Year's tomorrow.

It ends tomorrow night.

Sehun falls asleep with the words I love you just about to form at the tip of his tongue.

 

 

  
**Track 14.**

When Sehun had first learned the word home, he'd thought of his mother's freshly baked cookies and the sunlight beating down high and warm on their backyard when his father left the back doors open on the way to work.

Back then, home had not been a two-floor house occupied by never more than two people.

That exchanged at least five sentences every week, if lucky.

Home isn't supposed to have been an empty kitchen, heated meals and dinners eaten alone. Home wasn't supposed to have been sitting on the bathroom floor, trying to even out breaths he'd wished weren't even puffing out of his aching lungs and overworked ribs. Home wasn't supposed to have made him lonely and unwanted.

Home is supposed to be a sanctuary - a place of comfort, of familiarity.

And it strikes Sehun with pinpoint accuracy, as soon as he takes his first step back inside the dorm, that this place - this tiny little room with two beds and one bathroom and cramped closets and Jongin's stupid turntable - has felt more like home in the past few months he's been here than his house has for the past five years.

Sehun feels his cheeks warming the moment the gears in his head finally click and grind together to register the thought.

"You're all red, Sehun-ah. Is it too hot? Too cold? Was walking here from the car rental a bad decision, after all - "

Jongin hasn't even stepped into the room and he has already slipped into roommate mode: autopilot edition. He pushes - more like kicks, Sehun notes with practiced dryness - his luggage into the room, leaving it right behind the door and almost preventing it from closing, before practically diving for his bed.

"Oh, god." Jongin's voice is muffled by the sheets. "I've missed my bed so much."

Sehun would roll his eyes, but he finds that he can't really do so when he feels the exact same as he sits down on his own bed. The comforter seems to fold cosily against him, a heaven-sent mix of softness and warmth automatically cocooning him in.

This isn't so bad, he thinks. Not really. This is enough compensation. However old he'd been when cookies waiting for him after school had been a possibility, when he'd actually seen his dad before one in the afternoon - however old he'd been then, however much he'd lost then as a child, however much of his childhood and teenage years he'd had to give up - lying there in a bed far too soft to be anything but surreal, with Jongin - warm, eternally bright Jongin - just an arm's length away; somehow, that is more than enough compensation for everything.

He allows a sigh of his own to whistle through his teeth. He hears Jongin chuckle.

"Sehun-ah."

Sehun manages a half-hearted hum in acknowledgement.

"Do you mind if I play a song?"

His first time here, Sehun would definitely have minded. He would have felt uneasy - anxious, uncomfortable. And yet, as he rolls on his back, watching Jongin get up without even waiting for a reply, he realizes that it's the exact opposite now. He feels almost.. relieved.

Content.

This room is home - soft music playing in the background instead of the smell of baked chocolate and bright sunlight instead streaming in through cracks in the blinds and condensed in the form of his roommate.

The thought makes him smile.

"Sehun-ah?"

His eyes fly back open. He sits up in faint alarm. "What?"

Jongin's grinning rather cheekily at him. "You were smiling."

Sehun takes a moment to blink at him twice, before flopping back down with another roll of his eyes. "What's your point? You didn't make a big deal about it the first time."

Jongin's laugh sounds like a cross between a chuckle and a giggle - the picture perfect definition of whimsicality. It doesn't quite sound as full as usual, however, but everything is waved away when he opens his mouth to point out; "Nothing, nothing. I was just curious - what could my Sehun-ah be thinking about, that kind of thing."

 _My Sehun-ah_.

Sehun's chest tightens. But he's used to it by now. It's not unpleasant, maybe even almost.. nice, from a more positive, less in-denial perspective. Nice - just like the vague fluttering and quickening heartbeat that Jongin seems to induce with just breathing in his presence.

I think I've fallen in love with you, Kim Jongin.

He'd meant the words. He really had. The knowledge is both reassuring and nerve-wracking, but then again, so is everything about Jongin.

Where do you go, what do you do even when you've accepted everything?

'Nice' isn't even the word for it. Something more large-scale, something more appreciative - maybe something less like thank you for being there and a little something more that sounds like I love you.

And Sehun really, really, really does not mind.

"Ah, you're doing the smiling thing again, Sehun-ah!"

He throws a pillow at Jongin, who catches it with his mouth in a muffled combo of a strangled oof and a shameless why are you treating your boyfriend like this, Oh Sehun.

Boyfriend. Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend. Sehun thinks he really should be used to the word by now, pretend or not. He swallows, retrieving the pillow and shoving it under his head. "There's no rule that states I have to treat you like a princess, is there?"

That's his first mistake of the day - it's a snowball effect from there on out.

"Rule." Jongin looks taken aback for a moment, as if tasting the word for the first time, before it fades away into a grin.

It isn't as bright.

"What's wrong with spoiling me?"

_Is he playing along?_

Sehun has never really been sure. He settles for a rather truthful; "You're spoiled enough as it is."

This is the second mistake.

"No, you tolerate me," Jongin corrects. There should be a pout in his voice, but for some reason - for whatever godforsaken reason that Sehun desperately wants to wrench out from the wave after wave of tension abruptly starting to build up between them just because of one slip of tongue - there isn't. "You don't spoil me. At least take me out on a date before - "

Against his better judgment, Sehun cuts him off. "Before what?"

This is the third mistake.

An awkward, suffocating silence descends over them, and Sehun desperately wishes Jongin hadn't broken off so abruptly at his prompt.

_Before what? Before this ends?_

_But what exactly is this?_

The unspoken questions hang in the air, like something bright and neon floating right in front of their eyes.

It's almost terrifying how everything had immediately gone rolling downhill within the span of six minutes - from missing their beds to somehow pushing into the open an issue they'd wordlessly agreed to somehow keep hidden in the back of their minds until whatever this is - this game, this request, this charade - is over.

"It's ending tonight," he murmurs. It's a resounding echo of the same thought running through both their minds.

He thinks he sees a flash of something like hurt or panic or dread in Jongin's eyes, but a closer look and it's gone, and Sehun is again left wondering if he'd imagined it. He'd caught Jongin like this way too often since they'd left for Christmas break - fractures in his typically sunny facade, like that time in the balcony, half-smiles that pale in comparison to his usual grins; and the thought that his roommate must be mulling over something that he's too dense to notice unsettles Sehun to no end.

_God, I'm stupid._

Jongin seems to have fully realized his mistake by now, and has settled for shuffling back over to his turntable with lips pressed tightly against each other.

A minute later and a song starts playing.

_"As our hearts lay sleeping,_

_As our bodies rest,_

_The Heavens open up for us._

_Put down your weapon, child,_

_And close your eyes,_

_Because you and your enemies_

_Are innocent tonight."_

Pressing his mouth together. Another uncharacteristic habit he seems to have miraculously picked up over the past week. It's too incredibly unsettling - Jongin seems to have shifted from a ball of warm and jolly sunshine to a star fading fast into a grand supernova explosion. Like a ticking time bomb.

He hadn't been like this before they'd left for Sehun's house.

_Is it because of his Christmas request?_

Sehun is hit by the sudden urge to bang his head against the wall. "God, I'm stupid," he repeats to himself, mumbled out this time - as if that would change things.

Jongin raises his head at that. He's trying to act blasé - and failing badly, for once. "What?"

"Nothing - " Sehun catches himself before he finishes. Another round of silence falls upon them, the space occupied by only quiet lyrics in the background;

_"I never wanted you -I never wanted you to go."_

The urge to hurt his head comes back, and he only barely manages to stop his head from turning to face the wall. "Jongin."

"Yes?" His voice is carefully controlled.

"Are you..." He hesitates, voice not quite as skillfully controlled, and that makes him feel all the more stupid. What the hell is he hesitating for? "Are you alright?"

The question takes Jongin by surprise, if only a little. He blinks. "Why do you ask?"

"It's just - " Sehun settles for tugging at the edges of his pillow. "You've been acting weird recently."

"How so?"

"I don't know." It's the truth, he doesn't know. Jongin is just either this, or that. Either his Jongin, or not his Jongin. "Just.. weird."

_"There's a voice inside your soul_

_That resonates through your skin and bone,_

_Up through the blades of grass,_

_Underneath the feet of God's only son._

_The war that you're fighting_

_Has already been won."_

Jongin sits back down on his bed. He's staring pointedly at his roommate now. "You're the one who's been acting weird, Sehun-ah."

"How so?" Sehun shoots back. It's maddening how defensive he sounds.

I just want to survive with you by my side. With you by my side, I just want to survive.

"Are you uncomfortable around me?"

The question is sudden and without overture, and it makes Sehun feel like Jongin had come over and personally slapped him. "What?"

"I'm just saying." Jongin shrugs. Again, he's trying to pass it off as casual - but the fingers drumming and running over his bed sheets, smoothing out non-existent creases, say otherwise.

_"Crooked mouth, quiet down._

_Let your fists come undone._

_Miscarried love will be reborn._

_When we sleep,_

_The devil's arms are tied."_

"Sehun-ah." He's biting his lip, too. Downright chewing nervously on it.

Sehun feels like he wants to scream in frustration. He'd passed off the slight ticks in Jongin's attitude as tricks of light; maybe even a momentary mistake on his roommate's part. But, surrounded by things he's used to seeing Jongin around, from familiar bed sheets to familiar floorboards to the turntable, the changes in his roommate's behaviour are jumping out at him one by one.

_"The war that we're fighting_

_Has already been won."_

_"Did my request make you uncomfortable?"_

_"I never wanted this,_

_I never wanted this to go away._

_I never wanted this,_

_I never asked for it,_

_I never meant to let it go."_

Everything whooshes out of him in a single expelled breath. "What makes you think that?"

Jongin looks like a deer caught in the headlights. Like he'd been expecting a flat-out "Yes" and little else. "What makes me - I - " He stammers, and it's a sight so rare that it makes Sehun feel almost accomplished. "So you're not uncomfortable? I mean, you just went along with it like it's nothing. That's not like you - I don't think - I - you didn't even say anything, and you're not acting like it's a big deal and - "

Sehun knows that. But the thing is that it truly had not been a big deal to him.

"I just want to survive with you by my side. With you by my side, I just want to survive."

He sighs. He doesn't even notice his hand lifting until he's running it through his hair. Brown and plain; nothing like Jongin's red strands.

His response is barely a mumble - and yet somehow the song decides to stop playing just as it exits his mouth: "Do you want me to act like it's a big deal?"

Fourth mistake.

It's the wrong question to ask, he can tell. Jongin looks like he'd been shaken awake, like someone had wrapped their hand around his cheeks and squeezed until he's left sputtering for air that hasn't even left his lungs.

There's a few beats of silence - nothing unfamiliar, and yet nothing completely similar to silences they'd shared before. There's something heavy there, something curling around Sehun's throat in a successful to attempt to choke him and prevent him from breathing, and Jongin's staring down at the floor, eyes wide and unblinking and he looks like someone's choking him, too and -

He snaps.

Jongin snaps.

It isn't surprising that he doesn't start yelling, but when his eyes turn towards Sehun with a newfound glaze that he didn't want to see there, much less directed at him -

"Is it not?" He sounds almost angry - teetering on the line between upset and downright mad. "I asked you to pretend to be my boyfriend. That was selfish of me. Do you not think so, Sehun?"

 _Sehun_. If Jongin had been the type to scream at him, that last question, Sehun thinks, would have coaxed a full body flinch out of him. He sighs again. It's all he can ever do.

 _How did we even get here? I don't want this._ The words never leave his mouth; the universe seems hellbent on allowing only all the wrong things to come out of him today. "I don't care if it's selfish. I owe you for everything you've - "

"Owe me." And at the snap of some godly being's fingers, all the anger leaves him, and suddenly there's not enough energy in Jongin's shoulders for him to sound like he's anything but dejected, and suddenly there's more disappointment lingering between them than unresolved tension, and come what may that's much, much, much worse. "You're doing it because you owe me. Have I - have I manipulated into this, somehow? Is that it? Because you feel like you have to pay me back?"

That was what Sehun had told himself when he'd said yes - that it was out of guilt, out of obligation. He'd insisted to himself, despite every bone, every muscle, every nerve screaming at him for the lies he's trying to convince his own mind with - he'd insisted to himself that it hadn't been his place to refuse.

Jongin inhales, and it's a shuddering breath that doesn't seem to help his rapidly deteriorating composure. It's here that Sehun realizes - try as he might not to let anyone see cracks in whatever white wall he's trying to put up, Jongin is just another human being with human emotions and human reactions and human expressions - and this is him reaching the limit of whatever measurement device he'd managed to hide in between his lungs, behind his heart, behind all the smiles and the laughter and the _my Sehun-ah_ 's and -

\- Oh God, Sehun feels really sick.

"You could have said no. That would have been fine. Anything would have been fine, you know that. Anything but say yes just because you felt obligated to."

"No." That's all he manages to say. Pathetic. Weak. "That's not - "

Fifth mistake.

"You promised to be honest to me, Sehun-ah." Jongin, all of a sudden, looks like he's about to cry. His face switches from dejected, upset, to flat-out cheerless. Sehun feels like he's being slapped repeatedly across the cheek, and yet it's more gut-wrenching for him to look away. "If you didn't want to indulge me, that would have been understandable. I would have accepted it, no problem. So why - " Sehun feels the punch right in his chest when he sees the tears start to form in Jongin's eyes, only barely barricaded by his lashes, " - why did you tolerate me these past few days instead of just saying no - and - and just - sparing me - from - from hoping that - you - "

He's dissolved into incoherency, staring at Sehun with wide eyes framed by tears.

And Sehun, for every hurdle he'd managed to overcome with Jongin's help, couldn't even bring himself to move forward and hug him.

Sixth.

He opens his mouth; "Jongin - "

And the sound of someone's phone - Jongin's - ringing cuts him off before he can go any further than his roommate's name.

Jongin looks startled by the sound, and he almost looks like he's still semi in shock when he reaches for the phone. "Hello?"

Impressive, Sehun thinks. There's not a single note of shakiness in his tone.

He stares steadfastly at his hands as Jongin excuses himself to take the call in the hallway.

 

Every story has its end. He'd learned that a long time ago. Just like the story of his fairytale home, just like the story he'd shared with Lu Han and Minseok. Some stories end quietly - like his parents' divorce. But some stories end with an explosive bang, an ending built on practically nothing, brought upon from absolutely nowhere. Like Lu Han's story - unexpected falling debris hitting him until he's buried deep in the rubble with no way out -

But Sehun really, really, really doesn't want anything to end with Jongin, explosive end or not.

He'd learned and come to realize that the hard way mere moments ago.

He turns over in bed with a groan. It's only a quarter before six in the afternoon - an hour and a half since Jongin left.

The call had been from work. From Chanyeol asking where the hell Jongin had been the past week and demanding he caught up with shifts as soon as possible.

Jongin left right after, informing Sehun of all this time in an uncharacteristic monotone and a distinct lack of eye contact.

Sehun spent the minutes that followed feeling sick to his stomach and trying desperately to even out his breathing because wow, he screwed things over.

He wonders if this is how it would feel like if someone were to stick sharp claws into his chest and slowly, painfully wrench his heart out.

It's quiet in the room; so terribly quiet that Sehun's own breathing sounds unbearably loud to him.

He hears footsteps in the hallway - giggles and semi-drunken calls.

"The sun hasn't even set yet," he mutters, shoving his face into the pillow.

" - back so early - "

" - no, I wanted to see - "

" - oh, oh, what's happening tonight -

" - fireworks, you dumbass - "

Sehun shoots up out of bed fast enough to ungracefully throw himself to the floor, frantically rummaging around for his phone.

_Fireworks._

He feels slightly disoriented - his mind feels like it's going a mile a minute, rapidly taking blurred snapshots of everything his eyes fall upon.

Fireworks tonight.

New Year's.

The bed, the ceiling, the turntable - and ah, there's his phone.

His hands are shaking as he types.

He doesn't say I'm sorry, not yet - it's the kind of thing you say in person - and he doesn't take into consideration the fact that his roommate might not even come - he knows Jongin better than that - so his quivering fingers are a form of bravery themselves as he presses 'Send'.

Meet me on the rooftop tonight.

 

He trusts Jongin to know exactly which rooftop it is.

There's only rooftop they'd ever been to - one where he'd first truly made a conscious decision to open up to Jongin, just a little, one where he'd first considered crying, even in the presence of cups of instant noodles.

Admittedly, the thought makes him want to chuckle now.

A lot can change in barely two months.

Sehun doesn't have anything with him now, and he spends an hour waiting with his coat buttoned up to his chin, hands shoved into his pockets and his eyes unwavering from the sky. It's a clear night, and the sky is a wide cloudless expanse of dark black and blue dotted by a solitary full moon.

He needs to fix this - before the year ends. He needs to.

He's trying to come up with what he wants to say - how he wants to say it, when to say it, why to say it. But the last contemplation proves to be a waste of time when he realizes that the sole reason he's up there waiting, preparing words he's 89% sure he'll never gather up the courage to say to anyone else, is exactly because he doesn't want to lose Jongin.

Not now, not ever.

"Don't screw this up, Oh Sehun," he murmurs into his scarf.

He still hasn't got anything by the time Jongin comes around 11:30, fresh off his shift with his uniform hidden under a bright red pea coat. Predictably, he has two venti Styrofoam cups of coffee. He hands one to Sehun silently before taking a seat right beside him.

Not too close, not too far.

Far enough not to be considered intrusion, close enough to be able to be reached if Sehun so much as stretches out towards him.

He hasn't even apologized and he's already forgiven.

Jongin's leaving the decision all up to him, he realizes. As always.

Sehun's wristwatch glows 11: 43 when he starts talking, slow and quiet.

"Jongin?"

His roommate tilts his head by way of responding.

"Promise not to say anything while I'm talking."

There's a nod in reply.

Sehun balances the cup in his hand. He takes a deep breath.

His heart is hammering in his chest.

"The first time we were here, you told me it was okay to cry. You told me you would pull me out if ever I was drowning - that you'll be there because it's your job. I used to think that that was the first time I'd truly opened up to you, and that from then on, I'd just allowed you to work your magic on me or whatever it is you've done that changed me from the Sehun I was months ago to the person I am now."

Another deep breath.

"But I realize now that's only half the truth, half a lie. Yeah, okay, I'd let myself open up to you by my own accord, but that hadn't been the first time I'd let you in. I think - the moment I'd picked up that phone, you were already a bigger part of my life than anyone else ever has been. That first time, you'd told me to stay for tomorrow - because I didn't know what it would bring. It was a corny statement, in all honesty - but now that I look back at it, that one thing has done so much for me. And I thought; I owe Jongin everything."

There's a brief pause. Sehun can hear whooping somewhere in the distance. People getting ready for the fireworks.

"Then I realized that at the same time, when I say that, it sounds like you'd snapped your fingers once and suddenly I'm a new, changed Sehun. But it didn't happen like that. You did it gradually. It wasn't that you forced me into a version of myself you specifically molded me out to be - it's just - your presence itself has played a huge role in directing me down the path that made me a better person. You taught me that tomorrow could be better, that there's something always worth celebrating, that human beings are capable of staying strong through anything, even me - you taught me so many things, Jongin, just by being there."

He's rambling. He can tell. Even he's confused by exactly what he's trying to get to.

His mind is supplying him with snapshots again - only this time they're ones from every single memory he has of Jongin.

He smiles anyway.

"You're right - I shouldn't owe you for anything. But I really want to tell you that I'm so, so, so thankful for the very fact that you're here. That you've been here all this time. Not just for the things you've done for me, all the things you've said to me and taught me - but just - you. Everything that you are."

It's 11:50.

Sehun feels panic momentarily seize his heart, but it's gone just as quickly, replaced by a sense of urgency - a necessity to suddenly start blurting out everything.

"I think you're great. No, not just great - wonderful. You're sweet and you're warm and you're kind and you're always so cheerful and playful and you're never pretentious or obnoxious and I was scared because you were everything I wasn't."

He closes his eyes; tries to conjure up every single memory his mind can give him about anything from September onwards.

"But then suddenly, you started making me feel safe. Safe and comfortable. And again, I was scared because I've never felt so at ease with anyone before - it felt like I wasn't supposed to. It shocked me and it frightened me, the ease with which I can do something as trivial as walk beside you somewhere. I've never walked beside anyone before, you know?"

The monologue's getting too long. It's taking too long to get to the point.

He opens his eyes. It's 11:54.

"And I'm sorry, Jongin, because all this time it would have been easier on both of us if I hadn't been so scared. If I hadn't let myself be so confused over my own feelings - and stuff. I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, I'm sure you know that, and I don't even notice that you're hurting until right at the very end, when it's too late. So, for that, I'm sorry. I really am. If I'd hurt you earlier, if I'd hurt you a lot of times before that, I'm sorry. But when I said yes to your request last Christmas - "

11:56. He can feel Jongin's eyes locking on him.

" - it hadn't been with the intention to hurt. I didn't say yes to indulge you, either. Or anything else you think. It really wasn't a big deal for me - and sure, I understand you might think that's hurtful - but I - I - " Now really isn't the time for him to be spluttering. He clears his throat. "The two of us already spend so much time together. Like I said, I feel so at ease with you, Jongin. It feels like - like two puzzle pieces that fit together? And even then, even when I was scared and confused - I even cried in the shower, can you believe that - I guess I realized, to me, it doesn't matter what label you want to put on our relationship because what does it change? My feelings for you would stay the same, whether or not I was scared of them, whether or not I refused to acknowledge them - and whether or not you want to give us a title to operate under. I was so comfortable with you, Jongin, and maybe, deep down, all I really knew, despite all the crying and the getting scared and confused, was that I wanted - no, needed you beside me, with or without a label. Because you're the only who's ever tried, who's ever actually tried to fight to stay with me, and oh god, you have no idea, Jongin, how that makes me feel and I - "

11:58. Jongin breaks his silence streak; "Your feelings. For me."

He sounds so staggered, and it's hard to tell without looking at him exactly what he sounds like.

"I told you not to talk," Sehun whispers. It doesn't come out without any infliction whatsoever. His hand tightens around the cup. By some means, it's still warm. "My point is that you're the only person who's ever actually been there, Jongin, and I think - I think this is me showing how much I've gotten attached to you and how much I hate - I admit - how much I absolutely hate the idea of you leaving." Just thinking about it makes him a little dizzy. "I've let you in, I've opened up to you and I've let you get closer to me than anyone has in a decade, probably - and I'm getting really annoyed with myself right now because I'm having a hard time explaining what I feel and I've been saying the wrong things all day and just - how do you even understand me - "

11:59 has passed.

People have started to count down.

Sehun takes one huge gulp of breath, and somehow manages to say it all out in one breath. "And I can't find the right words nor the right way to say this because I've never had to say this to anyone else but - "

10.

"I don't know what love is, no more than you, but whatever I feel for you must be pretty close to it because I love you so much my chest hurts when I see you and I think of you and you make me feel so content - "

9\. 8. 7.

His hands are shaking.

"I think I've fallen in love with everything that you are, with your bright smiles and your stupid songs, and your Sehun-ah's, and your goddamn warmth and - "

6.

He feels fingers slip in between his, and the warmth is so familiar and so Jongin that he kind of wants to cry right then and there.

"And you feel like home, and I think I'd choose you in a hundred lifetimes - god, that sounds so cheesy - and I feel like in any version of reality, I can somehow find you without even looking for you because - "

4.

"You asked me before if I knew what joie de vivre was and I think - I think I have it figured out."

3.

"I feel happy to be alive when I'm with you and that's joy of living, right - so I guess that makes you my joie de vivre - you are the emotion itself, the feeling of happiness about life itself - literally - or whatever other phrases you want to add there - "

2.

"You didn't save me, Jongin. No one can save another person - no one can  _fix_ another person. But you were there every step of the way to hold my hand - to catch me if I - I stumble and I - 

1.

"Because point is, I love you, Kim Jongin. Whatever - whatever that might mean for you, and - and for me."

The first round of fireworks are green and red, and when Sehun finally looks up at Jongin, hands still shaking, throat raw from more talking than he'd ever done in quite possibly his entire life, there are tears practically glistening on his cheek, illuminated by fireworks.

Sehun, tentatively, reaches up to wipe away the tears.

Jongin catches his hand - and, true to character, he smiles.

Bright, dazzling, cheerful. The very same smile he'd heard over the phone the first time, the same smile he'd given when they'd first seen each other face-to-face.

Jongin is just as perfect as he'd been then, and Sehun's chest aches.

He wants to kiss him. Not to press his lips against his to feel their softness or to taste them or to try and absorb even more of his warmth - no, he thinks. He wants to kiss Jongin because he's out of words; words have completely failed him, drained out of him by the last bits of emotion he's capable of expressing without inhibition, and kissing Jongin -

\- kissing Jongin is the only way he knows. The only way he knows he can express every single word left at the tip of his tongue; the only way he can murmur the words perfect, I love you, and joie de vivre into Jongin's mouth, like gently traced stencil, and the only way for Jongin to be able to fully comprehend the sincerity behind everything Sehun feels for him and everything that he is.

So when both hands travel to cup Jongin's cheeks, and his mouth opens to whisper; "Can I kiss you?" neither one of them says anything - it's a given yes -

And the feel of Jongin's mouth against his, warm fingers tightening around his hand, is enough to be considered the joy of living in and of itself.

 

 

**Track 15.**

Jongin's kisses are about as predictable as he is himself.

There are times he kisses Sehun almost placidly - soft and bright and every bit as warm and genuine as his roommate is - boyfriend now, officially, he supposed. It's chaste and slow, as if Jongin was savouring each and every second and storing the feeling somewhere in his mind, and it always feels like eternity before one of them breaks away, and even then, Jongin never, never, never seems to want to let him go, like doing so would have him forgetting about what the whole ordeal felt like straight away. That had been the case last New Year's Eve, and Sehun had not been ignorant to the quiet sort of energy buzzing underneath his fingers when he'd ran his fingers down Jongin's cheek and jawline, and he wonders if it's possible that Jongin's even more scared to lose him than vice versa, even when Sehun's right there.

Other times, Jongin's kisses are anything but serene. They're rushed and insistent and downright needy, all traveling hands and shirt clutching and nails digging into wrists. It's a colossal surprise to Sehun, having seen Jongin lose his composure only once since they've met - and even then he'd been a self-possessed ball of sunlight, brightness subdued by layers of frustration and unsaid words, and not like this - not like someone whose hunger is somehow incapable of being satiated and restrained, hand gripping arms hard enough to leave marks on their way to becoming bruises. But Sehun never pulls away. It's not completely unpleasant, even so, and he lets Jongin push him down on the sheets and kiss him to oblivion until their lungs are screaming for air and their elbows shaking under each other's weight. It's always worth it, because Jongin is both warm and pliant but demanding and insistent in his arms, and somehow it's everything Sehun has ever wished for and more.

It doesn't stop him from asking Jongin about it, though.

It's one in the morning and Jongin has crossed the room from his bed to Sehun's, and with a distinct habit of not asking his roommate - boyfriend, Sehun has to keep correcting himself - for permission, burrowed his way through the younger's blankets and right into a spot on the bed unconsciously reserved for him.

"M'cold," he murmurs drowsily.

Sehun's rather proud to see through the lie. Jongin never gets cold.

He shuffles over anyway, giving him even more room, until his back is pressed against the cold wall with Jongin's warm cheek pressed against his chest. He sighs - and it comes out more as one of content than anything else.

He can see Jongin's eyelashes casting shadows on his face.

"Jongin?"

"Hm?"

"Is everything okay?"

"What do you mean?"

Sehun closes his eyes, but whatever uncharacteristic drowsiness he'd had in his system just seconds prior has gone with Jongin's breaching of his private space. "Like, are you okay with this?"

He doesn't miss Jongin's hand tightening around his arm. "Of course. Why not?"

"Well, no. It's just - "

"If you're worried that I never really responded to your long-ass speech up on the rooftop, I can write you a letter detailing my undying love for you, Sehun-ah."

Sehun hears the message loud and clear; If these past few months hasn't proved everything to you, Sehun, then I really don't know what else to do.

He rolls his eyes nevertheless. "That's fine, I'd rather you not," he says dryly.

Jongin laughs - a quiet breathy chuckle into Sehun's shirt. "Then what are you asking?"

"I'm saying that - " Sehun takes a moment, putting words that don't quite fit in his head together. "Is there something wrong?"

"And I'm saying that - " Jongin rolls on his back slightly, looking up at Sehun with a slight frown on his face. "There's nothing wrong. What makes you think there's something wrong?"

"Well, no, you just - " Sehun wishes this is one of the times he can just involuntarily blurt out whatever he's thinking for Jongin to hear. "The way you're acting. It's like."

Jongin's ever patient. "Like what?"

Sehun shivers a little when he replies; "Like you're competing against something."

_And you're scared to lose._

It's terrifying being this close to Jongin - so close that he doesn't have to move much to capture Sehun's lips in a brief closemouthed kiss - and yet still having no idea what he's thinking.

It's terrifying having Jongin right in his arms, and still not understand him completely. Still not know him completely.

Even now, with Jongin's hand on his cheek and his lips on his - even now, there's still something he doesn't really know about Jongin.

When Jongin pulls away, he just grins cheekily at Sehun, like that's it, conversation over. And part of Sehun wants to sigh and part of him wants to yell, but he doesn't get the chance to do either before Jongin's snuggling back into his chest.

"What time does your class end tomorrow, Sehun-ah? I have a class from nine to twelve, and then I have work after."

Sehun can't help it; he's still taken aback. "Mine's from two to four. Why?"

"My shift ends at five."

"R-Right." Sehun frowns a little, too. "Do you want to go somewhere?"

"Let's go on one date."

It doesn't really sound much like he's asking and more like he's telling - but that, Sehun is used to. He does sigh, and he adjusts his body around Jongin, pulling the blanket around them both.

He doesn't ask why Jongin says one date, like it's both the first and last, and he swallows everything back and releases it in one exhale of; "Okay."

 

Jongin looks too solemn wearing red, Sehun thinks.

It looks almost out of place on him - it stands out too much, blood red under the dim orange glow of the lamp post above him, subduing Jongin's neon greens and yellows. He looks much, much smaller in that red pea-coat, as if he's drowning in the countless layers of rouge wool, and yet not fighting against the tide set on taking him away. There's only a slight smile on his face from where Sehun could see, and his eyes are fixed on a lone snowflake, just barely bigger than small butterfly, watching fervently as it fell onto his right sleeve.

"Why did you want to meet here?"

Sehun doesn't bother with a hello. He and Jongin never really deal all that well with predictability.

But Jongin hardly looks startled as he holds up the Starbucks cardboard tray balanced on his left arm.

Sehun looks at him dryly. "We go out for a walk and get coffee practically every night."

Jongin grins at him. "So? Did we ever have a problem with it?"

"Most people," mutters Sehun, taking one of the cups with the practiced ease of a well-learned morning routine, "Do something special when they go on a date."

"Aw, did my Sehun-ah want something special?"

"No," Sehun says flatly.

Jongin chuckles, slightly breathless from the cold. "You know, if you think about it, everything about life is mundane. What might be boring to you may mean something special to the eyes of another person, and vice-versa. So learn to see the best in the little things in life, Oh Sehun."

"Are you giving me a lecture right now?" Sehun levels him a look, pointedly ignoring the mildly affronted look Jongin adopts. It's kind of cute. "You still didn't answer my question. Why did you want to meet here?"

Jongin blinks in slight confusion, giving their surroundings a cursory glance. They're back in the same park they were in last October - the one with the tree that had been cut off, the remainder of its trunk now serving as Sehun's cup holder as he takes a seat on the bench.

It feels oddly like they've come full circle.

"I wanted to celebrate."

Sehun frowns. "Celebrate what?"

Jongin looks torn between grabbing Sehun by the collar to give him a good shake or simply flicking his forehead. Fortunately, after much blatant deliberation, neither side wins. Jongin sighs - a long-suffering one that Sehun kind of wants to smile at. "What did I tell you the first time we officially met?"

The first time they officially met.

Sehun is a bit caught off guard by the shocking vividness with which the memory comes back at first try. It feels so long ago - and yet not, and suddenly, he's a little dizzy, even sitting on the bench unmoving, as he recites the words he hadn't even realized he'd known by heart;

"You always have to find things about life worth celebrating."

There's flash of something unrecognizable in Jongin's eyes - but it's gone as soon as it came, and beyond it all, he looks pleased. Almost childishly so. "You remember."

"Don't ask me how," Sehun mutters. "Can you sit down now?"

"Demanding," Jongin counters, yet without any bite whatsoever, and obediently does as told. "This whole boyfriend thing is really getting to your head, Sehun-ah. You've been ordering me around this past month."

Sehun snorts. His heart still jumps each time he hears the word boyfriend, and it's silly even to himself. "It's a new year. I'm looking for a change of image."

"I don't think I quite like this image," Jongin replied swiftly, never one to lose at teasing. "But it sure is a nice change from the last time we were here."

Sehun stops at that, cup mid-way to his lips. He lowers it thoughtfully.

"Sehun-ah?"

"Hardly two months."

"Huh?"

"Two months." The words taste odd on Sehun's tongue, and he can't quite figure out whether it's unpleasant or not. "So much can change in two months."

Jongin nods, musingly. "You know, last time we were here, I was proud of the tree."

"What?" Sehun does sip from his cup this time, if only to hide his confusion. "Are you not anymore?"

"No, I still am." Jongin hums contemplatively, and he fixes his gaze on yet another snowflake. They shouldn't be sitting out here in the cold, and yet Sehun doesn't feel cold at all - not with Jongin's arm pressed against his. "I'm still proud of the tree - but now I'm proud of you, too, Sehun-ah."

He smiles then - it's a soft, perceptive one, and yet Sehun feels like it's much more than that. It's the kind of smile that feels like Jongin is seeing right through him, with full view to his heart and mind and soul, and directed at only him, with layer under layer, limitless, of reassurance and understanding conveyed in one tug of each edge of Jongin's lips.

Sehun thinks that must be his cue. "Don't be ridiculous."

Jongin laughs - unrestrained. "There isn't a problem with me being ridiculous."

"No," Sehun sighs. "No, there isn't."

"I love you, Sehun."

Sehun almost drops his drink. His grip on it loosens for even the slightest of seconds, and slides off his palms. His hand is tightening around it the next second, however, and it doesn't stop him from turning to Jongin in surprise. "Why all of a sudden - "

"I love you, I love you, _I love you_." Jongin half-sings the words, eyes still fixated on snowflakes. It looks like he's tasting each and every syllable on his tongue, as if the moment he stops saying the words it will be as if they've never been said at all. "I know I really didn't say it before but I love you so much, Sehun-ah. I love you so much it hurts." He spares a few laughs, and he looks almost dazed - a trance-like stupor as he swings his legs around for yet another round of repeated _I love you_ 's. "Sometimes, I look at you and think _wow, you're beautiful_ and I couldn't understand why you would think any less of yourself because I think every inch of you is absolutely lovely, you know, no matter what anyone else says. And I look at you every day - like when I heard you laugh for the first time, or saw you smile for the first time - and I wonder if I could love you any more than I already do, and I keep asking myself that every time, every day, because each day feels like I'm loving you even more and more and it's come to that point where I love you so much, it hurts, Sehun-ah - " He breaks off only when he feels Sehun's lips on his - just a brief, chaste brush against his mouth.

Sehun smiles, ever so slightly. "I said you didn't have to express your undying love."

It takes Jongin a few moments to recall their conversation from the night before. He laughs, faintly out of breath. "Thought you might have been bothered that I didn't really say it back. But I did now. I want no regrets."

Sehun's surprised to realize his smile hasn't wavered. "No regrets," he repeats, slowly.

He wonders why it feels so final.

 

**Track 16.**

Sehun wouldn't consider himself overly familiar with how birthdays are supposed to be celebrated. The image in his head is that of a traditional cake and candle, maybe balloons and kazoos and party hats and hands caked with frosting - but that image belongs so far back into his past, under layers and layers of neon paper and hushed arguing past midnight, that he doesn't think it suitable enough a celebration for someone Jongin's age.

The first problem is that that leaves him stuck, completely plan-less and utterly clueless, and he thinks he might as well be branded with worst roommate, worst friend, worst boyfriend in the form of hot iron pressed against his left forearm.

It won't feel much different, he thinks, than the panic he's feeling when January 14th looms over them a bit too quickly for his liking.

He does buy a cake, though, and he stuffs it in the mini fridge in the common room until eleven the night of the 13th, when he scarcely manages to sneak out of the dorm room with a half-hearted excuse to a blatantly baffled Jongin. It's small and dainty, with chocolate frosting and a vanilla sponge texture, and he takes extra care balancing it on his hands as he kicks the door open and brings it in, candle lit and everything from a lighter he'd picked off the coffee table.

Jongin is sitting on his bed with a half grin, not bothering to stand up and help him with the door - and the cake, oh dear lord the cake is going to fall - and he watches in mild amusement as Sehun barely makes it to one of the desks, one hand instinctively going up to shield the candlelight.

"I'm touched, Sehun-ah."

Sehun gives him a look. "Yeah, you definitely sound like it," he mutters, giving Jongin's somewhat somnolent expression a onceover.

Jongin does sound touched; only that there's less genuine delight there and more of something else. Something that rattles Sehun's bones and leaves him feeling a bit colder than the closed window should.

He doesn't have time to dwell on it, though - behind Jongin, the digital clock blinks 11:56. "Hurry, there's less than five minutes left."

"We're supposed to do this after midnight," Jongin whines - but he moves forward anyway. Closer to the cake, closer to Sehun. "Why are we rushing?"

"You have work tomorrow. You need enough sleep."

Jongin's smile suddenly looks a little bland - Sehun passes it off a candlelit trick of light. "But we need to spend more time together. It's my birthday."

"We have time." Sehun frowns at him over the candle, tries to make his expression look like don't worry, I have plans tomorrow. "Hurry. Wish."

"Wish?"

"The candle, Jongin."

Jongin sighs, looking at the candle like he's examining a newly discovered bug, all narrow squints and reluctance. He looks up at Sehun, and for a moment, it looks like he's pleading with him - for what, he's not really sure. But he blinks, and it goes just as quickly as the fire does when Jongin finally leans in to blow it out.

Sehun claps, rather awkwardly. He stares at Jongin's face, tries to take in what the expression there entails - it looks a bit like disappointment, or, if he dares look a little closer, maybe distress.

He's still cold. It's dark in the room and he's cold.

"What - What did you wish for?"

Jongin looks like he hadn't expected to be asked, and he blinks in slight, abandoned confusion for a few seconds before his eyes show registration. His face doesn't clear though, and the half-smile comes back in a faded replication of the smile he'd given Sehun just months ago. He looks a little older all of a sudden, more vulnerable, and most of Sehun is still in enough denial to convince himself it's really just a trick of light and that it's dark, is all.

Jongin's voice is steady. Playful, even. "I'm not supposed to tell you, or else it won't come true."

Sehun admits he's more than a bit exasperated. "Well, fine."

Jongin laughs. It isn't as faded as his smile, but it sounds weary. Endeared and yet at the same time - sad. Like he's watching something that makes him happy for the last time and watching as it gets taken away right before his very eyes. "You're a child, Sehun-ah."

"Me?" Sehun levels him a glance. "You're calling me a child?"

"Yeah," Jongin replies, in an impressive attempt to sound chirpy - one that only failed a quarter. "Is there something wrong?"

"I don't think you have the right to say that," Sehun grumbles.

Jongin suddenly moves - arms stretching out to pull Sehun close in a semblance of a tight hug. "You still have time to be a child, Sehun-ah," he whispers. So quiet it would have been inaudible had his lips not been so close to Sehun's ears. "That's what I wished for."

Sehun frowns - frowns long and hard at the wall opposite him. Jongin's arms are shaking slightly around him, and he wonders if the cold has gotten him, too. "Your wish?"

"Mhm." Jongin's breath tickles, and Sehun would have inched away - but the limbs around him are tight despite being unsteady, and he shudders instead. But he thinks the shudder isn't just for Jongin being so close - it's for the tone of his voice; resigned and calm, eerily so.

The voice of someone saying something for the last time.

"I wished for more time."

"For me?" Sehun's hands find their way on Jongin's back. "Or for you?"

Jongin leans into the touch - like it's instinct; his heart talking over his mind.

He's quiet for long seconds. And then; "For us."

Sehun watches the time tick by, neon numbers changing and leaving yellow shadows behind his eyelids. "Us? For - "

"I should have wished time would stop, for us."

Sehun runs a hand through Jongin's hair. It's not quite a conscious action - and he kind of wishes that yeah, I wish time would stop, too.

"Why didn't you?"

Jongin hums, and the sound takes Sehun months back, over the phone.

"Because time never stops for anyone."

The neon numbers change.

12:00.

 

He's scared. He's scared because Jongin won't let him go.

It's not even anything subtle - Jongin has positioned himself on Sehun's bed and has not moved from there since the younger had come back from class; completely set on not moving a single muscle. He has work in barely half an hour, and yet he's unmoving, staring pointedly at the ground in complete concentration - as if he wouldn't have to go if he focused enough, if he wished for it hard enough.

_Time doesn't stop for anyone._

Sehun sighs, sitting beside him. "Work."

"I don't want to go." Jongin's voice cracks - and Sehun wants to tell him that you’re being a child but no, no, there's something else there; something downright pained. "I don't want to ever go."

"Jongin." Sehun runs a hand through his hair. He doesn't understand the sudden change in behavior; the sudden mood swing; the rise in stubbornness. "Did something happen at work?"

Jongin looks momentarily conflicted - like just thinking about it is enough to distress him. He looks like he's about to cry, and Sehun can't help the panic that seizes his heart then; thumping loud all of a sudden against his ribcage.

"Jongin - "

"Sehun-ah," Jongin suddenly starts, looking up at him like his time to decide is up. But there's something off there; something so off and so wrong and so unsettling that Sehun feels the panic continue to rise even higher in his throat. "Sehun-ah, listen."

He nods, because that's what he and Jongin does.

“I love you. No, sh - listen. I love you. You are enough. You are more than enough. You’ve always been so much more than enough and you just didn’t know it.”

Sehun doesn’t know where Jongin is going with this - why this, why now, why all of a sudden - and he feels afraid because it sounds so final and Jongin’s hand finds its way around his arm and he’s not even looking at me. He tries to open his mouth, but Jongin shakes his head.

“Listen,” he says, insistently, shaking Sehun a little. It would be funny - it should be funny, but the urgency in his voice is anything but. “These past few months I've spent with you - I don't regret any of it. Not a single day. Okay?"

Sehun doesn’t know what to say - he's scared; Jongin looks close to tears, and he doesn’t understand - cannot comprehend. He doesn’t understand, but Jongin looks like he’s pleading with him, begging him. So he swallows, too, and nods.

“Hey," he whispers, "What's going on?"

Jongin’s smile looks wrong is too many ways; like he’s barely keeping himself together. "It's my birthday, I don't want to go. I want to stay here with you, Sehun-ah."

Sehun's hands feel clammy, and entirely too shaky, but he lets Jongin reach for both of them. "But you have to. It's your job," he murmurs; still too loud in a room too silent without the turntable playing and without Jongin's laughter. "We'll see each other later - "

Jongin looks like he's been slapped; and Sehun scrambles around to wonder what he'd said wrong. But Jongin doesn't pull away; instead he tightens his hands around Sehun. Slowly, with a sudden reluctance, he tugs him forward, their lips brushing against each other almost carefully, as if any more and they'll both break.

Sehun looks at Jongin and realizes that that's exactly what he looks like - fragile, about to break.

"I have to go." Jongin repeats, and he sounds like glass, too; smooth and transparent. But break it and they become shards that leave you bleeding. "It's my job."

 

Déjà vu is an odd feeling.

Even weirder still is the silence around him - the plaza's mostly empty, the last groups of people having passed by almost an hour ago. He was supposed to meet Jongin around eleven, just before his birthday officially ends - the first and last person to wish him a happy birthday, a circle of sorts that starts and ends with him.

But Jongin's terribly late, and the more time passes by, second and minute hands completing circles of their own way faster than they should, the more Sehun feels dread start to creep in.

I don't want to go.

He's cold. He wants Jongin here - wants his warmth, wants him to be there.

I want to stay here with you, Sehun-ah.

His coat isn't doing much against the mid-winter temperature, and his hand, gloveless around a bouquet of flowers, feels like it's about to fall off, vulnerable as it is against the falling snow. But he waits. He waits because that's the one thing he can do.

It's a familiar scene, and an even familiar feeling, déjà vu at its sharpest - but the familiarity doesn't come with the pleasant comfort that thoughts of home bring, and instead it serves to do nothing but coax the dread further up his throat, piercing right through his heart and leaving him with an panicked ache in his chest that he can't quite shake off.

He's dreamt about this before.

He's dreamt about this, exactly - empty plaza, bouquet of flowers, waiting out in the cold.

Only he doesn't remember how it had ended.

He digs around his pockets for his phone. It's five minutes to midnight - no texts or calls from Jongin. No nothing.

Calls not answered.

It's hard to pretend not to notice his hands shaking as he dials the number.

He knows by the fourth ring that there won't be an answer - he can feel it, can feel the dread settling in like it has made itself at home, can feel the panic give way to nothing but now - but he doesn't give up. Not yet. He waits.

He waits because that's what Jongin has done all this time. He'd waited for him to open up, slowly, carefully, feather by feather, taking care to be patient, tolerant as no one else had ever been for him, loving him before he himself realized he was worthy of it.

He'd fallen in love with Jongin because he'd loved him before he could love himself.

_Hi, this is Jongin -_

Somewhere in the plaza, a clock chimes.

Midnight. Three chimes.

_\- sorry but I'm not available right now -_

Four chimes.

_\- if you'd like -_

Five chimes.

_\- you can leave a message after the beep._

There's been a lot of countdowns in his life, lately.

The plaza's completely empty now, save for him - and it's eerie, almost. He doesn't think he can even hear anything anymore, not after the last chime had rang out, and it feels like he's been plunged into a room with soundproof foam and he can hear nothing but static.

He's dizzy - he's about to pass out; and yet everything starts coming back with shocking clarity.

Like an old television screen standing in the middle of an empty room, playing nothing.

Abandoned.

Then he sees it - briefly - at the edge of his vision.

A flash of red.

Something that closely resembles Jongin's pea coat.

He doesn't know if it's his imagination taking over, if it was a trick of light in the middle of the snow - falling harder now - but he doesn't care.

_I'll pull you out when you need me to. It's my job, Sehun._

He starts running.

The ground is slippery.

He doesn't care. He doesn't care anymore when he can't even remember the last thing he'd said to Jongin before he'd left for work, the last time he'd kissed him.

If he'd even said I love you. Or even a thank you.

He's running, and he doesn't even know where he's going.

_It's my job._

In his dream, he'd thought someone had been chasing after him. He'd thought that, for him, to be running that fast, it had to have been away from something - that he must have been scared, must have been terribly afraid of what's after him.

He'd never thought that he'd be chasing after something, instead.

Running towards something - someone - instead.

He slips mid-run, and he falls to the ground, arms and legs twisting at uncomfortable angles as he goes down - the back of his head making contact with the wet concrete with a pang that stings as much as the aching in his chest.

His last thought before he blacks out, eyes fluttering shut, hand tightening around the bouquet of flowers he'd never realized he hadn't let go of - his last thought is of sitting on the living room couch, Jongin leaning back against his legs.

_When you need me but do not want me, then I must stay. When you want me but no longer need me, then I have to go. It's rather sad, really, but -_

_There it is._

 

Sehun wakes up to a face he wasn't expecting.

His mother's eyes are rimmed with a rouge he'd only seen artificially applied on her cheeks and mouth before, dried tears at the edges as he looks up at her blearily. Her lips are pressed tightly together, and when she leans forward to get a closer look at him, she stops half-way, as if afraid to handle him.

He wonders if he looks fragile.

His father's hovering right behind her; and he looks nervous. More nervous than Sehun has ever seen him. He's keeping his distance, too, albeit with much less reluctance in his body language - his father isn't a hesitant man by nature, and his behavior does nothing to impede the fear that grips Sehun then.

His parents are there. Together.

He takes in the white walls slowly, eyes traveling cautiously, tracing the corners of the room -

\- before falling on the wires around him.

His voice doesn't work at once. He clears his throat several times. His throat feels raw, simultaneously feeling like he'd screamed until there was nothing left to scream, and like he hadn't spoken in so long; the unheard and the mute, both at once. "Am I in the hospital - "

"Sehun-ah."

He stops short at that, and it feels odd - feels too odd to hear it from his mother's mouth. His head hurts, badly, but he wants to move; wants to feel his fingers and his toes.

"Sehun-ah, do you know who I am?"

He nods, trying to sit up. His arms feel numb - feel like he hasn't used them in a while. Everything feels creaky; his head, his body, like rusty gears moving for the first time in way too long, hands of time left to rust. He feels weak. "Mom," he says. It comes out as a question, and he's frustrated. "Why am I here?"

The look she gives his father leaves something bitter forming at the back of his throat. They must have talked - there's none of the tension that was there before, none of the pained looks in their faces whenever the other shows up as a reminder of the fairytale that had gone wrong all too quickly.

But Sehun can't feel relief when they're looking at him like he's hanging from something with only one hand, one limb away from either flying or falling.

"Listen, Sehun." His father's voice is too gentle as he approaches, voice softer than he ever remember it being. He pulls up a chair by his hospital bed, mannerisms too uncertain to have belonged to him. "You've been unconscious for a few days. I found you in the bathroom." He pauses, and the unspoken _I'm sorry_ hangs in the air for a bit. _I'm sorry I hadn't noticed sooner._ "You'd fallen and hit your head. Do you know who we are?"

"Yeah. I - " He nods, again. Everything is too much. "Where's Jongin?"

Confusion takes over his father's body language, and Sehun doesn't understand; wishes that the reluctance was back. It's a cruel irony; the one time they get to talk and relate to each other is the one time Sehun wish they didn't.

"Who's Jongin?"

He swallows, and he knows even before the words are out that it would sound wrong to his parents' ears. That it might even sound wrong to him. "My roommate. Kim Jongin."

"Your roommate?"

With the abruptness of the first drop of rain, Sehun feels something crack. He suddenly wants to yell, wants to throw something, anything to wake him up from whatever dream this is; but he feels even weaker now. Too feeble. "My dorm roommate. You met him last December when he came over for Christmas - "

"Sehun." He doesn't like - doesn't even want - the worry in his father's eyes. But he lets him take his hands, as if somehow that would hamper the truth in what he's about to say. He wants to throw up. "Sehun-ah, you didn't go to university. You were supposed to go last month, but you - before you - "

He must have shown signs of something in response, because his mother's suddenly there, abandoning her attempts to stay detached, guiding his head back down on the pillow. One of them, he thinks, must have called the doctor by now.

He wants to sleep; wants to fall back to whatever unconscious state is a lot more preferable to the worry and confusion around him now. He doesn't understand.

His head hurts. He's dizzy. "What are you talking about - "

There's a hand on his forehead, smoothing his hair back. He's sweating. "Sehun, what was the date on the last day you remember?"

He really, really, really wants to throw up. "January 14th, 2014."

His father's hands tighten around his. "It's September 8th, 2013 today, Sehun."


	3. final track

Waking up proves to be the hardest.

Sehun wakes up on a bed that should be familiar but isn't, and looks around a room that he'd spent more than a year of his life in, and yet somehow feels suffocating no matter how hard he tries to breathe in air that won't come. And for a moment, it feels like he's dreaming - the word was slowly, painfully losing its significance to him - and that if he looks to his right, carefully, like trying to put a thread through a needle, Jongin would be there, lying down on an airbed.

But the worst part is that he isn't, and Sehun has to take a moment to regain his breathing when the shock and pain revisits him all over again, brought wave by wave by the reminder that the dorm room he'd shared with Jongin wasn't home; that it hadn't ever been home for him.

Not for him, nor for Jongin - because Jongin didn't exist.

He'd never existed; at least not in real life, not where other people have met him, not where there are witnesses to convince Sehun that the last few months are more than the long, vivid dream the doctor had proved to him it was.

And Sehun lies in bed, tired eyes staring up at a ceiling that eventually starts to blur, and waits until rays of sunlight filter in through the blinds, signaling the start of another day he'd only shared with Jongin in his dreams.

 

The only time he let himself release all the bitter frustration and resentment is his first day back in the house. He'd felt nauseous, sitting on his bed where Jongin should have sat when he'd come over - and he has to keep reminding himself that Christmas is still in three months, and Jongin was never there, and it feels like glass shards digging into his sides. He'd sat there for a long time, doing nothing but listening to the gentle tick tock of the clock - until he'd looked up to see the neon number change, blinking at him, and he'd felt angry.

He's angry - angry at Jongin for supposedly being a figment of his imagination, angry at himself, at his own mind, for making him hope, making him love someone that he's told didn't even exist. So he picks up the clock -

\- and he throws it.

It makes a loud crack against the wall, batteries falling out, the light behind the neon numbers dying as it falls to the ground.

The satisfaction only stays briefly.

He finds himself wandering to the bathroom, grabbing the clock off the wall and launching it across the small room, watching the glass shatter against the tiles. He feels his heart shatter, too, and he thinks he might be crying - hot tears that he'd thought he'd shed last in that same bathroom - and they come with more rounds of shock and ache.

His father comes home to find him in the living room, curled up in the couch and unable to open eyes that are swollen raw, broken clocks scattered around the house and television showing static. Sehun almost expects him to go straight up to his room, find his alarm clock with the plug torn off the wall, and yell at him - he thinks he might have wanted that, because what right does he have to go around breaking things, what right does he have to do anything -

\- but he doesn't.

He finds room for himself on the couch, beside Sehun, and, tentatively, pulls him in for a hug. It takes Sehun a while to realize that his father's crying too, whispering something that sounds like an apology, something like a peace offering for all those years of nothing but echoes of a fairytale that ended in a broken family, and something that sounds a little more like a promise than all these past years had ever been. It's only then that Sehun realizes how much he's resented his father, for everything and for nothing - and yet, that, with that one apology, he forgives him, too.

When his father pulls away, ruffling his hair with the same uncharacteristic reluctance, and tells him; "You can tell me, Sehun-ah. I know I haven't been around, but you can talk to me." - Sehun does.

He takes a deep breath, oxygen finally voluntarily reunited with his lungs, and he tells his father stories of post-it notes and late nights and early mornings and Styrofoam coffee cups and dreams that had felt all too real.

 

There are days that get particularly difficult.

There are days when he finds himself back to staying up long past sunrise, days when he feels sick after coming down for breakfast - days when he wants to run back to the bathroom and restart the cycle all over again.

But he thinks of Jongin; hears Jongin's voice in his head, real or not, and most days, he forces himself to sit down and eat, little by little, to take walks when he can even when it feels awfully wrong and empty to do so by himself, and to take a moment to remind himself that alone doesn't always have to mean lonely, and that being by himself doesn't necessarily mean he's entirely helpless.

He spends days coaxing his own mind that he still has himself, make-believe Jongin or not, and at this point - with echoes of a nothing but the memory of a roommate that had done more for him than anyone else, shown him he deserved more than he'd ever thought he would, gave him the gentle push that he wouldn't have survived without - it's all he can do. He's left to pick up the pieces all by himself, stay strong all by himself even when it feels like he's back to how it was before Lu Han had happened, and most days, trying is all he can do.

 

The closest he'd come to receiving an explanation to what Jongin had been was a simple dismissal that he'd only been a figment of Sehun's imagination - maybe a manifestation of feelings he hadn't wanted to confront on his own, or worse, a way to deal with the stress that had come with being involved in Lu Han's death months ago.

The thought makes him sick, and it's all he can do not to yell at his parents, the doctor - everyone that had been there shaking their heads in sympathy for him when they're not even close to understanding him. He lets it go, lets them walk away with their wrong theories, and lets them convince themselves that he'll forget all of this, eventually, even when sometimes it feels like just breathing serves as a reminder.

Two months don't do a lot to get rid of the disbelief, either. Reliving October has him remembering seventeen days of not talking to Jongin, instant noodles on a rooftop, and No, not really, I think I like this job. November brings memories of the beach and stones thrown far, far, far away in place of insecurities he'd began to shed, little by little, and listening to Jongin talk about his brother.

Sehun has a hard time believing he'd dreamt all of that up by himself.

But he's out of any other alternatives, and come December, he barely has anything to convince himself that what he'd had with Jongin was real in any way whatsoever - if Jongin had truly been real, or just another vivid dream he's having trouble forgetting.

His answer comes on the first day it snows that December.

His father had persuaded him to consider applying for the university's January-September semester to make up for the one he'd missed - it's said with concern, and Sehun agrees; agrees that he can't continue like this - and he's in the middle of looking around his room for a pen when he sees them.

He'd opened his bedside drawer, expecting to find it empty, and hates the round of shock that hits him, daggers dug into his chest, when he finds two CDs staring up at him.

Two very real, very solid CDs in his hands as he reaches in to take them out.

Jongin's handwriting still looks fresh - and entirely too familiar, and he knows he's crying, but he sits down on the floor, hands shaking as he takes out a CD player from under the bed. The handwriting is one he knows better than his own - has seen it on notes left behind about breakfast, on Starbucks cups, and he hates the pang of overwhelming ache in his chest when he can clearly remember Jongin writing those things down, eyebrows creased in concentration and eyes a bit too close to the surface he's writing on.

 _How could I have only dreamt about you_ , Sehun wants to yell, if he could. But he stays quiet; he doesn't trust his voice - has never really trusted it when it comes to Jongin - and settles for turning over one CD in his hands and trying to focus on the writing even through his tears.

It's ironic, because it says; _This is for when my Sehun-ah is sad. For when he wants to cry and I won't be there to help him not drown in his tears. Don't be sad. I want my Sehun-ah to be happy._

He closes his eyes and listens to it play.

The first song hits him with familiarity at the lines; _It’s killing me, I’m dying to put a little bit of sunshine in your life_ , and he can see it - can see Jongin the first time they've met, grinning at him and introducing the song his turntable is playing.

_I like the idea of you being my roommate, Sehun-ah. Okay? This is an awkward thing to say, but I really do want to be friends with you. Somehow._

How could Jongin have been a dream?

 _I'm A Better Man_ starts playing at some point - it sounds distant, everything sounds distant, and he feels like he's stuck in a daze until the songs stop playing - and when he thinks of going to the beach with Jongin, his heart clenches painfully, tightening in all the wrong places and loosening in all the wrong edges.

He can't breathe; his heart aches and his throat feels clogged up, but he can't stop - not when it means feeling close to Jongin, even for just a few minutes of voices that don't even belong to either of them. _Blackbird_ brings memories of the freedom - the shameless abandon - that comes with heading towards the middle of nowhere, and M _y Invitation_ and _Kill With Me Tonight_ feel like fresh wounds, pain rendered anew, when it brings him back to how it felt like realizing he'd been in love all this time. If he closes his eyes tightly enough, he thinks, listening to the songs almost feel like he's back there, only this time Jongin's smiles are a lot sadder than he'd ever remember them being.

 _Dreamlife_ is the last song on the CD, declared in hasty handwriting - shaky loops and uneven lines -

_I never wanted this,_

_I never wanted this to go away._

_I never wanted this,_

_I never asked for it,_

_I never meant to let it go._

\- and he remembers waiting on top of the rooftop; remembers fireworks and first kisses and yet another coffee tray between them. And he finds it even harder to breathe; harder to find some way to make sure that the memory stays as vivid; stays as alive, as real.

When the CD stops, he sits there for a long time, wishing for the last time that he's back in the room - their room - listening to the turntable, watching Jongin idly flipping through a magazine on a bed that should have been his.

Wishing, for the last time, for what could have been but didn't.

 

He bumps into Kyungsoo a few days before Christmas.

Kyungsoo looks at him with the same sincerity in his eyes that he'd had in Sehun's memories - the same one in his dreams with Jongin - and there's a slight smile on his face when he greets him; "Hi, Sehun-ssi."

It's another vivid case of déjà vu, another reminder that the conversation he'd thought he had with Kyungsoo hadn't been real - only this time, he's breathing a little easier, doesn't feel as warm and as overwhelmed; and he thinks that what was once fear and bitter resentment may have been replaced with a numb ache he trusts will fade enough eventually.

He bows. "Kyungsoo-sunbae."

"How are you?" It's the same question.

The déjà vu aches.

He musters up a smile. "Alive."

It really, really, really aches.

Kyungsoo cracks a smile. "I wish - "

"Listen, sunbae - " This time, Sehun knows what Kyungsoo's stare and smile means, and he beats him to it. "You don't have to apologize for anything. You couldn't have done anything."

There's surprise in Kyungsoo's eyes - surprise and something else, but his smile turns into the same one that Sehun's looking for. And that's more than enough. "I could have helped you stand up to them, Sehun. I was a bystander."

"I could have helped myself, too." The words sound foreign to his own ears, but he doesn't stop them from coming out of his mouth. He shakes his head. "But I didn't."

"It's not too late, you know, Sehun."

The urge to cry hits Sehun then, like sudden gunshots in the distance and a brick missing his head by inches."I don't - "

"Yes, you do." Kyungsoo leaves it that. He holds out his hand for Sehun's grocery basket. "Let me pay for that, okay?"

It's the same unspoken apology from his dreams, and Sehun's hands are shaking as he hands it over.

_How could it not have been real?_

But he nods. "Okay."

The urge to cry doesn't fade even long after he's gone home, and he only lets himself cry when he realizes that all this time, he'd been waiting for someone to help, someone to guide him, someone to tell him it will be alright, He hadn't gotten that from his parents, and he'd searched for it from Lu Han and Minseok - and when that hadn't worked out, he'd been afraid, had been terrified of Jongin being that person.

But if he'd only taken a moment to figure it out, maybe he would have realized that the reason he'd been looking for someone, all this time, was because he was just as terrified to help his own self.

 

 _It's not too late_ , Kyungsoo had told him.

He doesn't think he will ever be able to work up the nerve to voluntarily go and see Minseok - just as he'll be able to forget, eventually, and yet never forgive - so he settles for calling him, standing apprehensive and stiff by the stairs, and phone secured in shaking hands.

When Minseok picks up, Sehun thinks he can almost see him, lips pressed together in a thin line over his scarf, waiting. "Hello?"

He swallows. "It's Sehun."

There's silence on the other end - and Sehun realizes for the first time that Minseok's waiting; waiting for ridicule, waiting for criticism, waiting to be reminded of cowardice that he's failing to accept for himself. Criticism for standing aside and assisting Lu Han even when he'd been just as aware of how wrong the situation was.

But he knows Minseok would never apologize.

And Sehun doesn't want him to.

_You shouldn't let opportunities pass. Most of the time, you'll never be in that position ever again._

"Hyung, listen, I - " It's painful when he swallows again, painful when he takes a breath - and it feels like the back of his throat is burning, but he presses on. "I'm sorry for lying. I am. I had no right to lie, and I - I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have meddled with business that wasn't mine, and I'm sorry for that." He doesn't know where he's getting the strength from, where he's getting the motivation from, but he lets the words flow; "But I don't want you to keep blaming me like that anymore - like it was my fault, like Han - like Han's death was my fault, because it w-wasn't, and i-if you're looking f-for an apology from me for that, I-I'm going to hold on to the belief that it wasn't my fault. You can dislike me all you want but I - "

"Stop." Minseok's doesn't sound pleased nor otherwise, and in Sehun's head, his mouth remains flat, and yet somehow that comes as a relief. "Spare me."

There are three sides to a story - and in this case, it's Sehun's version of the story, Minseok's version of the story -

"Hyung, you made my life a living hell."

\- and the truth.

Sehun thinks he can hear Minseok sucking in a breath on the other side. He wonders if Minseok had been waiting for that; if he'd been waiting for closure of his own.

"I'm not expecting an apology," Sehun cuts in, and he means it. "I'm not expecting anything. I'm not. I just wanted to say my piece."

He exhales, slowly, carefully, painfully.

"Bye, hyung."

He hangs up without waiting for a response.

 

He listens to the second CD on Christmas Eve.

It's snowing outside, and his father's downstairs, asleep on the couch, the TV left muted and playing a Christmas movie. His hands are still shaking when he slips it into the CD player, but he isn't nervous - for once, he's not nervous, and for once, he's not scared.

However, he's still not prepared to hear Jongin's voice.

"Hey, Sehun-ah."

_Sehun-ah._

His breath hitches - he feels his throat close up before he hears it - and he almost reaches to pause the CD. But he can't move, and he settles for closing his eyes, back against the bed, wondering if this, as well, is a dream.

There's a song playing in the background.

 _When I see your smile, tears run down my face_  
_I can't replace, and now that I'm stronger I've figured out -_

 _\- how this world turns cold, and it breaks through my soul -_  
_And I know, I'll find, deep inside me, I can be the one_

Sehun doesn't have to be there to know it's coming from the turntable. His hands clench into fists, nails digging into his palms painfully to remind himself that this, at least, is real.

"So, uh, Sehun-ah - you must be pretty mad at me right now, huh." Sehun wants to laugh - wants to laugh amidst all the tears that he hasn't shed. "I wish I have an explanation for you, but I really don't. I don't know why things are the way they are. I've tried wishing they were different, that I didn't have to leave, but I - "

He breaks off.

Sehun can almost see the look on his face.

"There isn't a lot left to say, and yet - and yet I wish I still had more time to talk to you. My brother joked that I won’t be able to rest easy until I’ve befriended someone - you remember that, right? I was a lonely child, and I wanted - needed - to have a connection with someone. And I think you’re that someone, so thank you, thank you so much, Sehun-ah."

The song sounds a little louder now.

_I will never let you fall -_

"I guess I was kind of like - your guardian angel? And yet something more than that. I considered it my job to remind you that you're beautiful, Sehun-ah - that you deserve flowers and good coffee and someone to stay up with you and breakfast and good music and to be reminded that you're human, too, and that that's okay. But it was more than a job - it was my mission, it was my one wish in the world during the time I've spent with you, and real or not, whether or not you can prove the time we had together was real, I don't regret it. I know it feels like a dream now, like it never happened - but maybe it just wasn't meant to be shared with anyone except the two of us, you know?"

I'll stand up with you forever -

"Thank you for everything, Sehun-ah. I - in a hundred lifetimes, I’d still look for you and find you. In another life, in another world, in another dream - I’d find you. And I would still choose you - I would still want you to be that someone. Okay, Sehun-ah? We'll see each other again. Somehow. Maybe not in this lifetime, but the next, for sure. Believe in me one last t-time."

His voice is starting to crack.

Sehun wonders if Jongin's crying; if he himself is crying.

"I know days might get hard, and it might feel like I've abandoned you - but Sehun-ah, you didn't need me. I wish you would realize that. I wish you would realize that you're worth a lot more than you think - that you deserve so much more. You shouldn't wait for someone else - me or anyone else - to help you up, because you're strong, you're wonderful, all by yourself, and all you ever really needed was for someone to show you that, nothing more. You're beautiful, you are, and I wish you would take a moment to stare a little longer at the mirror, a little closer, and see the good things, see what you're capable of."

I'll be there for you through it all -

"You're a lot stronger now, aren't you, Sehun-ah? You're trying, even during days when you feel like giving up - like it's not worth it anymore. The Sehun-ah that I met before wasn't like this, and I'm so proud of you for coming this far, I really am. I didn't save you, Sehun-ah. You don't owe me anything. I gave you the gentle push that helped you save yourself. Remember what I told you? Don't underestimate your own value."

Another pause.

"I love you, Sehun-ah. I've said this so many times already but I love you. I love you. And I don't know if you'll even ever listen to this, or if you'll even remember me once my time with you is over, but I - I love you. It was never part of the plan, but there was something about you that made me fall in love, and I wish you would realize that whatever that something was, it was more than enough for me to wish you would see how wonderful it is, too."

_Even if saving you sends me to heaven._

"I guess that's it, huh."

Sehun opens his eyes, then, and he scrambles for the player.

_No, no, wait, Jongin._

_Don't go._

"Don't cry, Sehun-ah."

_But time doesn't stop for anyone._

"I love you, okay?"

The songs ends at the same time Sehun sinks back to the floor and whispers I love you, too, Jongin for the last time.

When he wakes up the next day, the CD is gone, replaced by a yellow stone nestled in his palm.

 

Things don't turn out perfect.

His mother calls to check up on him, but Sehun isn't stupid - he could hear the emotional detachment in her voice, the obligation behind every How are you feeling now?

But that's okay.

His relationship with his mother may be beyond fixing for both of them, but his father's trying. It's still unusual to have him around the house more often than he'd ever been before, an attempt to construct a semblance of the home they once had, but Sehun appreciates the sentiment even over silence during dinner, and coffee that tastes too unfamiliar - he appreciates his father trying to understand him for once, make sure he's eating, make sure he's not in the bathroom trying to coax his soul back up and out of his mouth - and he tries his best to keep up his side of things, even when some days it feels like he's a ribbon slowly coming undone, pools of never-ending thread marking a path of could have been's and what if's and what happened.

And that's okay, too.

Jongin, real or not, imagination or not, had come to show him how to stitch up tears and rips in fabric, and even though his hands always feel like they're shaking nowadays, Sehun knows it's up to him to pick up the needle and sew things for himself this time.

 

At the start of January, the university sends him his roommate's profile.

He doesn't open it on the day he gets it - he thinks a part of him might still be scared to be faced with the idea that it won't be Jongin this time.

He opens it two days later.

A year older than him, but in the same year.

His new roommate been living in various foster homes for most of his life, orphaned at the age of ten, and had taken a year off after high school to work for university tuition.

He almost drops the folder when he sees the picture.

 _Huang Zitao_ , it reads in Times New Roman.

_Jongin?_

_Yeah?_

_What was your first impression of me?_

_Like -_

_Like a child that had grown up too fast._

The memory gets rid of whatever reluctance he may have had.

He remembers the waiter from his dream - he remembers Tao, and he remembers empty eyes and too many sleeping pills to be anything but suicidal - and he finds himself walking towards the phone before he's even aware of what he's doing, folder in hand.

He dials the number with the same shaking hands he'd used to pick up the phone when Jongin had called.

Tao picks up on the fifth ring. "Hello?"

"Is this Huang Zitao? Hi, I'm Sehun. Oh Sehun. I'm your roommate."

**Author's Note:**

> [alternate ending](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6388858). [mix](https://8tracks.com/hirune/i-will-never-let-you-fall). due credit to [this](http://thetalltwig.tumblr.com/post/66535451175/1-if-you-dont-like-your-name-dont-use-it-2) and [this](http://writingsforwinter.tumblr.com/post/56202985642/reasons-to-stay-alive).


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